


it was always you

by colorblindbody



Category: Panic! at the Disco
Genre: Dubious Consent, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, abuse tw, domestic abuse, endgame is ryden sorry if the summary is vague, gets kind of dark in places but not so disturbing you'll want to remove your eyeballs i promise, mild violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-09
Updated: 2018-05-20
Packaged: 2018-12-13 11:12:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 18
Words: 67,211
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11758620
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/colorblindbody/pseuds/colorblindbody
Summary: “Hi.” His voice was silky and deep and smooth and reminded Ryan of mahogany and lacquer. He leaned in a little and Ryan felt his next breath catch in the base of his throat.“I’m Liam.”The problem was, Ryan really liked Liam. Liam was handsome and charming and funny. Liam made Ryan forget about all the time he’d wasted silently pining for a certain someone else. But Liam might not be as perfect as he seems, and Brendon may not be as oblivious as he's let on.





	1. Chapter 1

Ryan sighed into his scotch glass before bringing it fully to his lips, watching his breath fog up the sides as he gulped down the remainder of his drink. He was exhausted both mentally and physically – tired of writing songs, tired of bickering with his bandmates, tired of fighting over what instrumentation should go where and who should sing what, tired of pouring everything out on a page like he _wanted_ the whole world to read his goddamn diary. Tired of arguing with a certain goofball lead singer one second and stealing pointless, butterfly-inducing glances at him the next.

He was jostled from his thoughts by the bartender pushing a fresh double into his line of sight. He looked up at her, a frown creasing his brow. “I didn’t order another.”

She nodded toward the far end of the bar. “It’s from the dude who’s been staring at you for the last ten minutes.” She smirked at Ryan’s startled expression and walked away as he glanced in the direction she’d indicated.

Their eyes met for what couldn’t have been longer than a second or two and then he was crossing the room. Ryan felt the air being sucked from his lungs, the familiar fluttering in his stomach. He ducked his head to hide his burning cheeks, watching in his peripheral line of sight as a pair of long, sturdy legs clad in dark-wash jeans slipped into the barstool to his left.

“Thanks for the drink.”

“You looked like you could use it.”

He looked up then, in time to see the flash of a grin revealing just a sliver of perfectly aligned teeth. Vivid green irises gleamed at him from behind long lashes, hidden in part by the very tips of stray brunette locks.

Ryan felt his heart hammering against his ribcage. He knew he should say something, anything, else, but all he could manage after forcing his lips apart was a short and wavering “hi”.

An easy, amused smile spread across the other man’s face. “Hi.” His voice was silky and deep and smooth and reminded Ryan of mahogany and lacquer. He leaned in a little and Ryan felt his next breath catch in the base of his throat.

“I’m Liam.”

-

Ryan blinked the sleep from his eyes and used one arm to fling the bedcovers to the side. Easing into a sitting position, he let his eyes travel down to the phone on his nightstand, the alarm still blaring loudly back at him. He sighed, reaching over and shutting it off. As the home screen returned to normal he saw the notification blinking back at him: _Liam Page: 1 unread text_.

_Had to catch a later flight than expected. Extra meetings this afternoon. Land at 6:45, coming straight to the show. See you backstage?_

Ryan stared down at the screen for several long seconds before forcing his stiff thumbs to type a response. _Sounds good. See you tonight._

The overhead light in the bathroom seemed dimmer than normal when he flicked the switch. He blinked up at the five fixtures mounted above the mirror. The one in the very middle was dark.

He sighed and leaned against the counter in front of him, chewing on his lip as he stared back at his reflection. Then, with slow, deliberate movements, he pulled his t-shirt over his head, letting the thin material fall to the floor. He prodded carefully at the bruise blooming across the left side of his ribcage, several days faded at this point. He no longer winced at the slightest touch, which was good, but he still felt a surge of stabbing pain when he poked his index finger closer to its dark navy-violet center.

Ryan exhaled, rubbing his hands over his face. Even with four days of distance his head was still spinning with confusion at what had happened the night before Liam left for his business trip.

They’d been arguing, and Ryan wasn’t even sure about what specifically now but it’d had something to do with whether Liam actually meant to return in time to see Panic’s one-off show in LA that weekend. Somewhere in the middle of Ryan pointing out that his boyfriend of four months had never even seen his band play and accusing Liam of putting his job before everything else on the planet, he’d turned and stomped angrily into the kitchen, meaning to start a kettle boiling for tea to calm his nerves and maybe bang some cupboards and pans about in the process.

The impact of hands pushing into his back had come out of nowhere, startling him so much that he neglected to put his own out to catch himself. He’d stumbled forward into the edge of the kitchen counter, his torso slamming solidly against its corner and knocking all the breath from his lungs. He’d grasped the surface with shaking fingers, staying in that bent-over position for several long minutes while his heart pounded and his ribs ached and he struggled to return his breathing to normal.

Liam’s footsteps had, after a tense, lingering couple of seconds, receded into the other room. Ryan slowly righted himself, hands traveling down to his throbbing ribcage. He’d been staring blank-faced at a cabinet door, trying to make sense of what had just happened, when he heard Liam step back into the room. His shoulders stiffened as arms snaked around him from behind.

“I told them no meetings after Friday morning,” he’d murmured into Ryan’s hair, lips tickling the back of his ear. “I’ll be there. I promise.”

And then he’d kissed him, said goodbye, and left.

Now, after four days spent replaying the incident in his head, Ryan still couldn’t make sense of what had happened. Every time he tried to shrug away the anxiety churning in his stomach – decide that maybe Liam hadn’t noticed how hard he’d pushed Ryan, that maybe the couple of drinks they’d had at dinner that night had been a little stronger than both of them thought, that surely this was an isolated incident and nothing to be too worried about – he’d succeed in reassuring himself for about three seconds before the image of his father’s face, twisted into a drunken rage, would pop into his mind, and the knot of discomfort would come right back.

Surely, however, he was blowing this out of proportion, he tried to believe as he turned away from his reflection. Liam was just stressed, just had a lot on his plate with work and Ryan was only adding to it with his requests that Liam make sure he attend Ryan’s show so really, it made sense for Liam to react this way. It made sense that they had been arguing at least three times a week lately, that it seemed like just about anything was enough to make Liam snap this way. It was just work, just stress. Things would go back to normal soon. After all, it wasn’t like this in the beginning.

In the beginning, everything was perfect.

Liam was CEO of a company, some start-up-turned-enterprise that researched and built new and innovative parts for cars. Ryan didn’t usually understand much when Liam talked about the things he did at work, but he sure did appreciate the way the words sounded as they spilled eloquently out of the other man’s mouth.

Liam took Ryan out to fancy restaurants, obliged his discomfort with openly admitting and behaving as though they were on a date and made up for the lack of PDA with subtle brushes of contact beneath tablecloths. He understood when Ryan explained his anxiety over the rest of the world becoming privy to his sexual preferences, listened intently when Ryan spoke about music and what it was like to be in a somewhat famous band. He simply smiled when Ryan blushed through his explanation of how he had neither really dated nor done “er, other stuff” with a man before.

“So when I ask if I can call myself your boyfriend, that means I’ll be your first one?” he asked in response, grinning all the more broadly when Ryan flushed an even deeper shade of red.

“Yes,” Ryan had said simply, earning his fingers a soft squeeze underneath the table.

The problem was, Ryan really liked Liam. Liam was handsome and charming and funny. Liam made Ryan forget about all the time he’d wasted silently pining for a certain someone else.

But now…

No. No, he was overreacting. He was overreacting and he needed to cut it out right away before his incessant second-guessing wrecked all chances of Liam wanting to stay with him. It was a little push followed by an accidentally harsh fall on his part. With alcohol involved, and tempers flaring. Liam hadn’t meant to hurt him.

 _It won’t happen again_ , he told himself firmly, as he pulled a fresh shirt over his head. _If it happens again, that’s when I get to question it. But it won’t. It won’t happen again._

-

His palms were sweaty. Why were his palms so sweaty? He slid them across the knees of his faded jeans, rocking back and forth where he sat. From the corner of his gaze he saw Brendon looking over at him, a slight frown creasing the singer’s brow. Ryan pretended not to notice, irritation stirring in the pit of his stomach along with the churning anxiety already there.

He’d had his eyes glued to the green room door for at least ten minutes, after mentally calculating for the third time how long it ought to take Liam to land, get off the plane, get to front door, hail a taxi, make it to the venue, find the right entrance, and talk to Zack. Every minute that ticked by past the time he thought Liam ought to be there was another twist of the wrench in his chest, pulling tighter and tighter around his lungs.

“Dude, you okay?” He heard Spencer’s voice, barely cutting through the haze of uneasiness wrapping his brain, and turned to face his friend.

“Yeah, fine.” He forced a smile, did his best to release the tension from his stiff shoulders and back.

“Nervous about the first show back? We’ve definitely practiced enough to be ready. I get it, though.” Spencer twirled a drumstick between two fingers. “Wanna go out back and smoke?”

Ryan hesitated. Liam hated the smell of weed. Ryan had hardly touched the stuff for months, always paranoid that Liam would smell it on him if he did. “Um…”

He was interrupted by the door swinging open. He was on his feet almost before he even saw Liam stepping into the room, Zack following closely at his heels.

“Yo, Ryan, this dude says he knows you!”

The corners of Ryan’s mouth twitched. “Really? Weird. Never met him.” He waited for Liam to extend an arm in his direction, for the other man’s lips to twist into a warm smile, before allowing his own smile to blossom over his lips and slipping into his boyfriend’s embrace.

“Hey,” he murmured, voice muffled against the folds of Liam’s navy dress shirt. “How was your flight?”

“Fine. See, I told you I would make it in time.” Liam pressed his lips against the top of Ryan’s head, an action that normally would have Ryan writhing with discomfort in the presence of other people. His bandmates and bodyguard had met Liam though, a few times now, and were pretty much the only people on the planet he felt comfortable being open with about his sexual orientation.

He exhaled slowly, releasing the breath he felt like he had been holding since Liam last walked out his front door. _See? It’s fine. Everything is fine._ His stomach started to settle a little, though the jittery wait-no-something-isn’t-right feeling still nagged at him, refusing to go away. He pushed it to the back of his mind.

As he turned back to face the others, he felt Liam’s fingers slipping in between his own. He gave them a soft squeeze in response. Though it felt like every atom in his entire body had focused its attention on the man to his left, he still managed to notice Brendon’s eyes narrowing ever so slightly before he grabbed the acoustic guitar at his feet and started plucking at the strings.

It hadn’t taken long for Ryan to figure out how little Brendon cared for Liam, though he doubted Brendon would ever say a word aloud to prove him right. At first he had gotten a bit of spiteful pleasure out of it, finding discrete enjoyment in the slight uneasiness that passed over Brendon’s face when Liam and Ryan touched, or when his friend would just barely suppress a snort or eyeroll of disdain at something his boyfriend had said. Now, however, Brendon’s distaste just heightened the discomfort he had already been feeling all night and he shifted weight, silently pleading for everyone to get along.

“Everyone excited? This is you guys’ first show since _pretty odd_ came out, isn’t it?” Liam gave Ryan’s hand a small tug, silently directing him back toward the couch.

“Yup.” Jon nodded. “Been a long time since we played, actually.”

Ryan perched between Liam and Spencer, letting Liam drape an arm across his shoulders before leaning into the embrace. Brendon continued to stare down at the guitar in his hands, plucking out a sped-up, oddly nervous-sounding version of _She Had The World_.

“You guys are really going all out with the hippie thing, huh?” Ryan could feel Liam’s chuckle vibrating his ribcage.

Spencer frowned. “What do you mean?”

“The outfits? Ryan told me your last gimmick was the, ah, the circus thing. With all the dancers and everything. So this one is like, chill hippie vibes or whatever?”

Brendon glanced up, eyes glinting. “Gimmick?” he repeated sharply.

Liam shrugged. Ryan’s body shifted along with the movement, distracting him for a second from listening to his heart rate increase. “Not the best choice of words. My bad. You know what I mean, though.”

Brendon pursed his lips for a second, letting his lower lip drag beneath his front teeth before his mouth returned to its normal shape. Ryan noticed. He didn’t want to, but he noticed. “This time the show is simpler. More stripped down.” His fingers had stopped moving along the guitar strings, the silence only adding to the tension Ryan sensed building around them. “The music speaks for itself without any of the theatrics. The… _gimmicks_.” He pronounced the last word as if he were removing a rotten piece of food from the tip of his tongue.

“Were you afraid it wouldn’t do that before?”

Brendon’s entire body went rigid. Ryan felt his breath catch in the base of his throat as he watched Brendon and Liam’s gazes lock, Liam’s expression calm and vaguely challenging, while Brendon looked as though he might go from his current state of deadly serious to exploding fury at any second.

Brendon finally spoke after several long, tense seconds, his voice cold and biting. “Are you really insulting an album your _boyfriend_ wrote a good eighty percent of at least?” He leaned forward, hands gripped tight around the edge of his guitar. “I guess it’s not _that_ big of a surprise, since you just used the word ‘gimmick’ to describe his band’s new stage presence. An idea he also came up with, by the way.”

Ryan clenched his jaw, feeling his body flush with a warmth so intense he thought he might implode. He suddenly hated his outfit, hated his stupid flowery dress shirt and faded jeans and weird braided leather belt, regretted every thought he’d had leading up to the decision to put them on in the first place, hated _himself_ for even suggesting the others play along with the idea.

Liam glanced down at him and Ryan just barely suppressed a flinch, startled by the sudden break in his and Brendon’s staring contest. He forced himself to breathe as Liam’s expression shifted into an easy smile. “Relax, man, I’m just messing with you guys. Ryan knows I’m kidding, right?” He leaned in and kissed Ryan’s temple. Ryan bent his mouth into a smile, trying to ignore the way his clothes now seemed to scratch against his skin. “Seriously, I’m glad I finally get to see you guys play. Ryan’s spent all his time lately either practicing for tonight or worrying about it going well, so I’m sure it’ll pay off.”

Ryan’s smile felt frozen in place, like if he moved even one muscle in his face his entire façade of calmness would shatter to reveal the ugly mess of anxiety writhing around inside of him. _Stop overreacting,_ he chastised himself, as he instantly interpreted Liam’s words as a harsh criticism for spending so much time obsessing over his music. _He’s teasing. Don’t act like a crazy person. Don’t overreact._

Spencer was smiling too, but the sentiment didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Yeah. We’ve all worked really hard, so. I’m sure it will.” Jon gave several slow nods from where he was sprawled across the back of the other couch. He was the only one in the room who still seemed to be relaxed. Brendon’s expression was still sullen, though his eyes had returned to the neck of his guitar, fingers once again sliding up and down the strings.

Zack cleared his throat and Ryan nearly jumped out of his skin for the second time since sitting down, having forgotten Zack was still lingering in the back of the room. “Hey guys, now’s probably a good time to start warming up and getting ready to on.”

“That’s my cue.” Liam rose to his feet, Ryan scrambling up from his position beside him.

Zack jerked his head in the direction of the door. “I’ll take you over to where you can watch.”

“Sure. Thanks.” Liam gave Ryan one last peck on the cheek before letting go of his hand. “Break a leg.”

Ryan nodded, watching the door ease shut as his boyfriend left the room. He ignored the confused glance Spencer threw in his direction and the sour look lingering on Brendon’s face. He waited what was hopefully an appropriate number of seconds to not look as though he was about to have some sort of nervous breakdown before stepping into the bathroom and locking himself inside with slow, deliberate, very much _not_ panicked (he hoped) movements.

Exhaling slowly, he leaned against the door, eyeing himself warily in the mirror for the umpteenth time since waking up that morning. _It’s fine. It’s fine. Everything is fine._ He placed one hand on either side of the sink, gripping its edges as he leaned forward and pressed his forehead against the cool glass mirror. He ran his tongue along his dry lips and began to recite the words to _Northern Downpour_ in his head, praying the knot in his stomach would just go away.

(Because everything was just _fine_.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back with a new fic! This has been in my head for soooo long yet has taken an alarmingly long time to start hammering out... I've been so mentally blocked lately, like so incredibly foggy so I'm sorry if any of this seems weird or jilty or dissociated in any way, I'm not sure I completely like the way I've written the first chapter but I can't tell if that's just my depression talking (lol) so I'm posting it anyway.
> 
> Be sure to leave kudos/comments if you read and like!! The more motivation I have to continue the better!! love you all xoxo


	2. Chapter 2

He could hear Brendon warming up on the other side of the bathroom door, first with scales, then lip trills, then pitch glides. The fingers of his left hand flitted across his face as he examined himself in the mirror. It didn’t matter how many times he whispered _melt your headaches, call it home_ under his breath, he still couldn’t shake Liam’s jabs from earlier out of his mind.

His fingers itched for the familiar feeling of a makeup brush poised between them. He wished desperately to be painting lines and colors and intricate designs across his face instead of just standing here glaring idly at himself. It was almost laughable now, the idea that he would ever be comfortable enough with himself to go out on that stage without some sort of mask to hide behind.

A short pause in Brendon’s warm-up sequence brought him back into the moment. He shook his head at himself and sighed. Hindsight was twenty-twenty. Failing all else, if tonight went horribly maybe he could get away with etching flowers and birds and clouds across his face for the next show without receiving too much flack for it.

Brendon was the only left in the green room when Ryan finally stepped back in. He turned his gaze upward at the sound of the bathroom door easing shut and Ryan froze, still flooded with insecurity and now feeling even more scrutinized than before.

“Uh… where are Spencer and Jon?”

“Spencer’s outside smoking. I think Jon went to find the other bathroom or something.” Brendon’s fingers were picking out a familiar melody. Ryan tried to make himself relax and lowered himself onto one of the arms of the couch opposite Brendon. He was waiting for the piercing look, the accusing questions, but Brendon instead merely tilted his head to one side and asked, “Warm-up?”

 Ryan felt some of the residual tension leave his body as he recognized the chords of _Across the Universe_. He cleared his throat and nodded. Brendon backtracked to the beginning of the chorus. Ryan fell into the easy harmony, starting to relax as they repeated the simple lines together.

Brendon was watching his hands and guitar so Ryan took the opportunity to watch him for a moment. His hair had gotten so long, shaggy almost. Girls on twitter were constantly bemoaning the “loss” of “Beebo’s emo hair”, but Ryan secretly loved the simplicity and newfound innocence it had brought to Brendon’s appearance, though he’d never admit it to anyone other than himself. Brendon’s otherwise pale cheeks always seemed a little rosy these days as well, his full lips a little redder than they had been before.

The green room door opened and Ryan jerked his eyes up to where Zack was poking his head inside. “Five minutes, guys,” he said, as the door opened wider to allow Spencer and Jon to slip back in behind him. Spencer’s pupils were stretched larger than normal, a lopsided grin on his face, and Jon was chuckling under his breath, probably at some dumb joke Spencer had cracked before they walked in.

Ryan saw Brendon nod up at Zack from the corners of his gaze and felt his cheeks flush with warmth. Luckily, no one seemed to notice, but good lord, what was wrong with him? He was supposed to be past staring dreamily at his bandmate when no one was watching – he had a boyfriend, a boyfriend who was _at this very moment_ standing backstage waiting to watch Ryan take the stage – so why on earth was he choosing now to notice the way Brendon’s hair fell softly across his face and came so close to brushing against his _impossibly_ long lashes…

“Ryan?”

Ryan jumped, but offered a quick smile to Spencer, who was looking over at him questioningly. He stood up from the couch, tugging on the hem of his shirt. “Ready?”

He was unsuccessful in removing the worried glint from Spencer’s eyes, but he got the sense that Spencer wasn’t exactly sure what he ought to be worried _about_. Which was just as well.

A decent amount of time had passed since Ryan last had the sound of a screaming crowd reverberating through his skull. He released a shaky breath and licked his dry lips. He was suddenly very relieved that he had asked to have _Behind the Sea_ left off this show’s setlist. All three of his bandmates really wanted to have it on there – Ryan couldn’t fathom why they would rather hear his scratchy voice echoing around the concert hall than Brendon’s strong one – but he wasn’t quite ready to be _that_ much the center of attention just yet. Especially not tonight. Not with Liam watching.

 _Liam._ His eyes swept the opposite side of the stage while they stood just out of the audience’s sight, waiting for their cue. As the lights all came up at once, and a tremendous scream of enthusiasm swept through the arena, he caught sight of Liam standing just behind a curtain off the other wing, arms folded across his chest, posture staunchly upright as per usual. He smiled when he caught sight of his boyfriend looking his way, and the butterflies started bouncing off the sides of Ryan’s stomach once more.

A set of fingers curled around his shoulder and he turned his head in response. Brendon was at his side, smiling broadly back at him. Ryan’s lips curled upward and he felt himself relaxing, centering around the familiar fuck-yeah-here-we-go-are-you-ready-to-do-this-thing-together look on Brendon’s face. Before he could reflect for another second upon why the brightness in his lead singer’s eyes felt more comforting than his boyfriend’s smile, a roadie dropped his guitar into his hands and Brendon was pulling him onstage, the bright lights momentarily blinding them both.

_Oh, how it’s been so long, we’re so sorry we’ve been gone._

He came in on the right phrase, twisted his voice into the right harmonies, put his fingers on the right frets at the right times. The whole band came in and he looked out past the edge of the lights. Everyone in the crowd was screaming, waving their arms and hands, jumping and dancing as best they could smashed together against the barricade. He cracked his own grin in response, glancing over at Brendon as they transitioned smoothly into _Nine in the Afternoon_. Brendon looked back, face creased with smile and laugh lines.

_Back to the streets, where we began…_

The rest of the show rushed by in a blur of excitement. There were points where Ryan heard mistakes being made, songs he thought could have gone better, but the feeling of playing, singing, performing, commanding the stage, was coming back to the four bandmates like the muscle memory of riding a bicycle.

And just as their musical muscle memory rarely failed them, old stage habits died hard. They played _Lying_ and Brendon immediately put the crowd in an uproar by creeping over to Ryan’s side of the stage and sidling up to him, eyebrows waggling suggestively. Ryan’s face flushed but he played along, letting Brendon’s fingers slide down his back during a lull in the singer’s guitar parts. His skin tingled underneath his shirt and he felt Brendon’s hot breath against the side of his face for one very long second before the other boy pulled away with a dramatic flourish.

“So as a special thank you to all of you lovely people for bringing your beautiful faces out tonight—” Brendon paused, letting the crowd finish shrieking in response. “—we are super excited for you guys to be the first to hear the news that in two months we’ll be heading out on tour!”

Screaming. Lots and lots of screaming. Spencer banged his bass drum and Brendon grinned, playing a quick riff on his guitar. “Yup, so be on the lookout for those dates to go up online _tomorrow!_ We’ll be finishing up with a date right here in LA, so am I gonna see all you pretty people back in a few months?”

More screaming. Brendon glanced over at Ryan, who cleared his throat. “All right all right, well I know I for one can’t wait for that, and um, I hope if we haven’t convinced you quite yet to come back and see us again that this last song will, it’s called Mad as Rabbits and uh, it’s a love song and it goes like this.”

-

Ryan knew something was wrong as soon as he asked Liam what he thought of the show and the only response he got was a quiet “it was great” and a tight-lipped smile. He accepted a soft kiss to the top of his head, skin prickling beneath his sweaty shirt, and tried to ignore the sideways stares Brendon kept throwing his way.

By the time he changed clothes and packed up his guitar a haze of exhaustion had replaced the adrenaline buzzing through his body, and he let Liam drive his car back to his place. His boyfriend was silent the entire half-hour drive. Ryan pretended he was too tired to notice the lack of conversation. Maybe Liam was just as exhausted as Ryan, from the long day he himself had just had. Ryan kept telling himself that had to be it, but the churning in his gut begged to differ.

Liam followed Ryan up the front steps of his townhouse when invited inside. Ryan fumbled with his keys, nearly dropping the entire set before finally jamming the right one into the lock. Liam excused himself to use the restroom while Ryan slowly pulled off his shoes, lowering himself to a sitting position against the edge of his mattress. By the time Liam stepped back into the room Ryan’s worry had bubbled up past the point of being contained.

“Is everything okay?” he blurted out, his face flushing with anxiety. “You’ve barely said a word since before the show, are you… did I do something?”

Liam sighed, keeping his face turned away from Ryan as he removed his watch and dropped it onto Ryan’s dresser. “What’s going on between you and Brendon?”

Ryan’s stomach clenched. “What?”

Liam looked up, his expression dark. “I saw the way you were looking at each other. The way he touched you onstage, which _you_ seemed to be enjoying.”

“Wait, wait, no…” Ryan shook his head, trying to shake away the dizzy pounding in his eardrums. “The stage stuff, it’s, it’s just for the fans, y’know, because fangirls… it gets them excited…” He rocked back and forth a few times, wiping his hands down his pants legs for what must have been the thousandth time that night. “We, uh, we call it ‘stage gay’, it’s dumb, it’s not… it doesn’t mean anything. It doesn’t.” He shook his head again, staring pleadingly up at his boyfriend.

Liam pursed his lips. “If it doesn’t mean anything, to _either_ of you, then why does he always seem so interested in everything you’re doing?”

Ryan held up his hands, trying to express the helpless feeling of _I-haven’t-got-a-fucking-clue_ as best he could. Liam’s eyes narrowed. “I don’t like games, Ryan, and I don’t like being lied to. If there’s something going on with him, if there’s _anyone_ at all besides me—”

“No! No, there’s not, I swear.” Ryan was still shaking his head, feeling as if it might eventually come loose and fall off his neck. “There’s no one else, it’s just you. It’s just you, Liam, I swear. Please.” He reached out, grabbing Liam’s hand between both of his and tugging his boyfriend tentatively toward were he sat.

Liam stepped toward him, some of the suspicion leaving his face as he sidled up between Ryan’s bent knees. “Promise?”

His breath was hot against Ryan’s forehead. A cold shiver ran down Ryan’s spine. “Yeah,” he whispered back.

Liam leaned down and pressed his lips to Ryan’s. “Show me?”

Ryan blinked. “What?”

“Show me I’m the only one.” Liam nudged Ryan’s cheek with his nose, pushing against his chest with one hand until Ryan laid back on the bed. Ryan’s breath hitched as Liam kissed him again, needier this time, tongue slipping between Ryan’s lips. His left hand slipped beneath Ryan’s shirt, the right tickling the back of his neck as it twined through his hair. Ryan melted into the touch, unable to hold back the short moan that escaped into the heat of Liam’s mouth.

He felt Liam smile against the weight of his lips, felt him pull away just enough to chuckle softly before kissing down the side of Ryan’s jawline and sucking at his neck. Ryan felt the fabric of his shirt being tugged up and lifted his head and arms, allowing Liam to pull the garment completely off. Liam’s lips moved quickly back to Ryan’s skin. Ryan bit back a gasp at the sharp pressure of teeth biting down, leaving their mark upon the thin skin stretched over his collarbone.

Liam grabbed Ryan’s hand and guided it up to where his shirt was buttoned together. Ryan fumbled blindly at the buttons until they had all slipped out of their holes. Liam sat up just long enough to slide the sleeves down his arms and let the shirt drop to the floor.

Ryan was starting to have a hard time separating the feeling of pleasure that came with Liam’s kisses and caresses from the _thud-thud-thud-thud-thud_ of his heartbeat in his ears. He tried to push away the tendrils of anxiety curling through his chest, but when Liam’s fingertips slid beneath the waist of his pants he instinctively flinched away from the touch. “Wait,” he gasped, trying to stop the spinning in his brain long enough to think about what was going on.

Liam bent back over him, nipping at his earlobe. “It’s okay,” he whispered, his breath tickling Ryan’s ear. “It’s just me.”

Ryan bit his lip. “Liam…”

“Shh.” Liam kissed him, full-mouthed and forceful, before lowering his hips and grinding his groin against Ryan’s. Ryan groaned. Undeniable heat surged through the lower half of his body at the feeling of their erections rubbing together through the fabric between them. The groan turned to a soft whine against Liam’s lips as he felt fingertips once more pulling at his jeans, this time teasing the button and zipper undone.

“Ryan.” Liam half-whispered, half-moaned the other boy’s name, their foreheads pressed together. “Do you love me?”

Ryan’s eyes widened. “Y-Yes,” he panted, not pausing to think it through. Liam resumed kissing down his torso, aggressive and needy.

“Show me,” Liam murmured, tongue flicking out to catch a bead of sweat forming in the dip of Ryan’s stomach, then slowly trailing lower, toward the now-visible waistband of Ryan’s boxers. Ryan trembled, cheeks aflame with both anxiety and sexual tension. His front teeth dug violently into his bottom lip as Liam’s forefingers hooked through the belt loops by Ryan’s hips, this time succeeding in tugging the pants entirely down and off Ryan’s body.

Ryan suppressed a shudder of discomfort as his near-nudity, trying to focus on watching Liam use one hand to work his own pants down his hips and thighs, sliding them off one leg at a time. He used his other hand to balance half-suspended above the lower half of Ryan’s body, mouth moving tantalizingly closer to Ryan’s now-throbbing erection. A loud gasp flew from his lips at the feeling of Liam’s tongue nudging him through the fabric of his boxers. Liam chuckled at the sound, sending vibrations through Ryan’s groin. Ryan was fairly writhing from the friction, too far gone at this point to voice another protest when he felt his boxers being pulled down his legs.

He jerked and whimpered under his breath at the feeling of Liam’s finger, slick with what must have been saliva, sliding inside of him. Liam’s free hand moved up and down his erection to serve as a welcome distraction while he eased another finger in. Ryan tried to stifle the whines that automatically rose from his lips from the sensation of Liam scissoring the digits, his movements not quite rough but not gentle either, as if he was trying to stretch Ryan as wide as he could in as little time as was possible. Soon he was slipping in a third, then a fourth, and Ryan couldn’t suppress the groan of exertion at the sudden fullness that even the tantalizing handjob he was receiving couldn’t distract him from.

“L-Liam,” he whimpered, his body instinctively telling him to wriggle away, an action that was only met by jolts of pain.

“Hold still,” Liam responded. He bent down again, best he could given his hand placement at the moment, and kissed his boyfriend for several long seconds until Ryan had succeeded in shutting down his body’s urge to shift its weight. “Almost there,” he murmured as he pulled away. Ryan bit his lip and stared up at the ceiling, trying to figure out how to brace himself as the pressure of Liam’s fingers disappeared all at once.

“Oh, god—” His entire body tensed up as Liam attempted to fill the now-empty space with his own erection.

“Relax,” Liam hissed, voice taut. “Come on, Ryan, relax. You have to relax.”

Ryan blinked away the tears that had risen to the edges of his vision and sucked in a breath, mentally pleading with his body to do as it was told. Gradually, with his jaw clenched tight as if trying to absorb all the tension within him, he forced his lower half to relax enough for Liam to push all the way in. Ryan’s fingers grasped large handfuls of the bedding below him and he gasped up at the ceiling, trying to acclimate to the unfamiliar feeling of fullness inside of him. He wondered, a small dizzy thought somewhere in the backmost part of his mind, when the pleasure part of this was going to happen, because he sure could do without the pain part that was taking place now.

As if he’d spoken out loud (he hadn’t though – right?) he felt Liam’s hand wrap around his dick again, stroking him back into a full erection. He moaned, relaxing even more without meaning to, and he felt Liam start to move inside of him. His body wanted to stiffen again in response but Liam moved his hand even faster and Ryan threw his head back against the bed, closing his eyes and completely giving in to what was happening.

He felt the pressure building up in his groin – the only part of this entire scenario that wasn’t completely foreign to him, truth be told – and some fuzzy inkling in his clouded mind told him maybe he should give a bit of a warning. “Liam, I’m—I’m g-gonna—”

“Not yet,” Liam panted. “Not yet, babe, hang on—” He slowed his strokes, instead thrusting his hips even faster, sliding deeper with each skilled lurch. The shock of this change drew Ryan’s attention away from his own building orgasm long enough for Liam to achieve his own satisfaction. Ryan’s cry of surprise as Liam came, a shooting, wet heat inside him, turned into a groan of overexerted pleasure as Liam quickly wrapped his hand back around Ryan’s length and returned to the task of jerking him off.

“Oh, _god_ —” His back arched up off the bed and he came into his boyfriend’s hand, panting heavily. Liam pulled out, Ryan wincing a bit at the sudden difference in pressure inside of him.

Liam pressed a soft kiss against Ryan’s left temple. “You did great, babe,” he whispered, and rolled off the side of the bed. Ryan heard the bathroom door close, the muffled sounds of running water behind it. He stared up at the ceiling, trying to gather enough energy to move from where he lay.

He heard the toilet flush and then the mattress was dipping beneath Liam’s return. “Get cleaned up baby, let’s go to bed,” he mumbled. Ryan rolled onto his side, pushing his legs over the edge of the bed. There was no part of his body that didn’t ache and he suppressed a grunt of exertion as he forced himself to his feet and into the bathroom.

He blinked wearily at his reflection in the mirror, eyes drawn down to the sprawling blemish over his ribcage that he had nearly forgotten existed. His hands traveled up to the bruise and he frowned. Liam had to have seen it as soon as his shirt had come off. The lights had been on the entire time and it wasn’t like the wound was hard to miss. He had said nothing, but now that Ryan thought about it, he hadn’t felt the area being kissed or caressed at all, though Liam’s lips _had_ left behind several new dark marks along his chest and collarbones.

 _It’s nothing_ , he tried to convince himself. _He just didn’t know what to say. He didn’t want to ruin the mood by making either of us upset. That’s all._

He grabbed a towel, hurrying to clean himself off so he could slide into bed next to his boyfriend. God, he was so tired. As he went to hang the towel back on its rack a smudge of red caught his eye and his frown deepened. He fingered the fabric before slowly folding the towel so that the bloodstain was hidden from sight.

It was because it was his first time. It had to be. That was normal, right? He knew it happened to girls, sometimes anyway, but… He gripped the edge of the counter, trying to stop the trembling in his already-weak legs. There was a tight knot of nausea balling up in the pit of his stomach that he couldn’t quite push away to go along with the uncomfortably sharp pain in his backside.

Also – he had just told Liam he loved him, he remembered with a start, and for the _first time_ ever, to boot. And… Liam had said it back. Hadn’t he? Now Ryan couldn’t quite remember. But he had to have said it back. After all, he had been the one who _asked_ … right?

He was so confused. And god, he was sore. He was sore all over his body in a way that he hadn’t expected, some muscles aching from the labor of performing and some from the exertion of the sex he’d just had. God, he’d just had sex. Sex with a man. For the first time. He squeezed his eyes shut and rested his forehead against the mirror so he didn’t have to look at himself.

_It’s fine. It’s okay. You enjoyed it. Didn’t you? You love him, don’t you? And he loves you. He has to. And it’s what you both wanted. It was good. It was great._

He unstuck himself from the sink and stepped back out into the bedroom, turning off the overhead light and feeling his way back to the bed in the dark. As he slipped beneath the covers he felt Liam roll over onto his side. His boyfriend’s arm snaked over his torso as he laid back, hugging him close to Liam’s chest.

“Mine. All mine,” Liam murmured sleepily into Ryan’s hair. “Love you.”

Ryan listened to the sound of Liam’s breathing as he fell asleep and tried to make himself feel better.

(It didn’t quite work.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter took me longer to write than I thought it would siiiiigh hopefully I did an okay job to be honest I can hardly even tell anymore these days
> 
> kudos/comment if you read and enjoy pls I need attention to survive love u xoxo


	3. Chapter 3

Ryan knew Brendon could tell something was up. Ryan had been jumpy all morning, quiet and short when spoken to directly. The band had taken the weekend off before starting their Monday with a photoshoot for something – promotional material, posters, maybe a magazine – Ryan hadn’t even bothered to ask. He’d been waiting for a quiet moment to pull his bandmate aside and say… well, fuck, he didn’t honestly know, though the lack of peace around them was giving him more than enough time to think about it.

“Are you okay?” Spencer asked him for the second time.

Ryan sighed and fiddled with the buttons of his jacket. Photoshoots were moderately more bearable than interviews; Ryan just wasn’t a huge fan of being dressed up and posed like a doll. He was grateful that they had been allowed to wear clothing of their own choice for this particular shoot, though it’d been a bit of a scramble getting ready to leave that morning when Zack called and reminded him to bring extra outfits and he didn’t have any prepared.

“I’m just a little tired.” That wasn’t even a lie. Ryan was completely drained. Liam had gone into the office on Saturday morning, leaving Ryan to continue mulling over what happened the night before, and returned that evening. He’d made dinner, brought wine, been his usual charming and funny self. And they had sex. Again. And Ryan was cool with it. Super cool with it.

Then Sunday they had another fight. Ryan wasn’t even sure how it got started but it had something to do with Brendon, _again_ , because he answered one text, _from Brendon_ , about what time to wake up for the shoot the next day, and Liam saw the screen. The next thing Ryan knew they were both yelling and Liam’s face had gone red and Liam… Liam slapped him. Straight across the face, so hard that Ryan’s head snapped to one side and he staggered several paces backward.

He’d stood, dumbfounded, fingers raised to cover his stinging cheek, until Liam grabbed him by the shoulders, pulled him over to the couch, and sat down next to him, practically on top of him.

“I’m sorry. It doesn’t matter. He doesn’t matter. You’re mine. All mine.” Liam shoved his lips against Ryan’s with aggression, shocking Ryan into silence. And then all of the sudden, the situation was resolved, Liam relaxed, they made out for a while, and Liam left. But Ryan couldn’t get the tension to leave his body. He laid awake in bed for hours that night, staring up at the ceiling, rubbing his fingers across his cheek even though it had long since stopped stinging.

Spencer’s attention had been momentarily stolen by one of the photographer’s assistants, so Ryan took the opportunity to shuffle over to where Brendon was standing, fidgeting idly and watching Ryan in his peripheral vision.

Ryan stopped a couple of inches away, close enough to be heard if he spoke quietly but not _too_ close all the same, and cleared his throat. “Hey.”

Brendon raised his eyebrows, regarding Ryan with a curious glance. “Hey?”

Ryan cleared his throat again, chewing on his lip and blinking down at his shoes for a few seconds. They were the brown loafer-y ones, the ones Liam had seen near the front door and called “weird and kind of ugly” that one time… why was he wearing these? What had possessed him to want the fact that he had ever worn them in the first place immortalized in a photograph? He looked back up to find Brendon now giving him his full attention, having recognized the lip-chewing as one of Ryan’s signature nervous habits.

“What’s up?” His voice was softer, purposefully gentle. Ryan felt his stomach flip and cursed silently. No, no, no, this was _not_ how this was going to go.

“I, um. I don’t want to do the… the stage gay. We shouldn’t… we shouldn’t do that anymore, I think.” Lord, he sounded so fucking stupid. Brendon was frowning at him, probably wondering why he couldn’t figure out how to put a proper sentence together.

“Um… okay? Why, though? I mean… everyone really enjoys it, y’know.”

Was it just Ryan’s imagination, or had Brendon put extra stress on the word _everyone_? He searched Brendon’s expression for some trace of hidden meaning for a moment but found none, just genuine bewilderment and perhaps a hint of… disappointment? “It’s just, y’know, I… have a boyfriend now,” he replied, lowering his voice. He rubbed nervously at the back of his neck. “It, um, it makes Liam uncomfortable, so I just…”

“Oh.” The gentle edge was gone. Ryan cringed inwardly at the sudden sharpness in Brendon’s tone. “Right.” Brendon had looked away and was gazing blankly across the room, watching the techs set up lighting stands. “Yeah, fine. Whatever. If that’s what you want.”

_I have no idea what I want._ Ryan pushed the intrusive thought to the back of his mind, appalled with himself. He let Brendon wander away, feigning nonchalance even though Ryan could feel his irritation no matter how many steps were put between them.

The shoot took forever, and it didn’t help that Brendon kept using Jon and Spencer as human shields to separate himself from Ryan, even insisting at one point when the photographer tried to reposition them that it was better for him to stand between Jon and Spencer rather than Jon and _Ryan_ , spouting nonsensical bullshit about height differences and the colors of everyone’s clothes until the poor man behind the camera conceded.

Ryan caught Jon and Spencer exchanging glances over Brendon’s head when he wasn’t looking, wearing their signature _jesus fucking christ can you believe they’re putting us in the middle of this shit again_ expressions. None of this was doing anything to calm Ryan’s anxiety, and now he was frustrated to boot. He escaped to one of the dressing rooms as soon as they were told they were finished, letting his bandmates hang around to laugh and chat and exchange pleasantries. He wasn’t good with any of that shit anyway.

He started tugging off items of clothing as soon as he was alone, having broken into a sweat beneath the bright lights outside. His incessant worrying and Brendon’s standoffish pouting weren’t helping either. He yanked off his scarf and button-up shirt, stripping down to the white undershirt he was wearing underneath. His hand traveled up to his torso without him even thinking about it, an annoying habit he’d developed over the past week. He eyed himself in the mirror, trying to determine whether the bruise was visible through the t-shirt. He bit his lip and grasped the hem of the shirt, hesitating a moment before he raised the material up to his chest. He’d dressed in a hurry that morning, not bothering to check a mirror until he was fully clothed, and hadn’t seen the bruise yet that day.

It was much closer to being healed now, to Ryan’s immense relief, but was still ugly and stood out quite starkly in comparison to the rest of the pale skin stretched across his midriff. He traced it with his index finger, noting where it had turned a sallow shade of yellow and where it was still tinged blue, purple. He tried to remember the last time he’d hurt himself somewhat badly, how long it usually took for his bruises to fade, and wondered whether this one was healing faster or slower than most. It was possible, he thought, that he had bruised right through to the rib, which would explain why, a week later, he still looked a bit like he’d been beaten with a crowbar and why his side had ached for days after slamming against that countertop.

“What the fu— _Ryan_ —”

Ryan jumped, dropped his shirt, spun around. Brendon was standing in the doorway, eyes wide, breathing heavy. His features were painted with shock and something else that Ryan couldn’t quite read, but if he had to take a guess he’d go with anger, since Brendon’s fingers were curled tightly into fists at his side. Before he could splutter something about privacy and barging in on people who were more than likely taking off clothes, Brendon had crossed the short distance between them, backing him into the corner. Fear, cold and instinctual, flooded his chest, paralyzing his body, so when Brendon grabbed at his shirt and tugged it back up his torso all he did was flinch away from the touch, turning his gaze to the floor.

Brendon stared down at the bruise, uncharacteristically silent for several long, torturous seconds. Then he exhaled, dark eyes flicking up to Ryan’s face. “He hit you.”

Ryan’s eyes snapped open. “What? N-No,” he spluttered. He snatched a handful of the shirt, jerking it back down to cover his body. “I tripped, in the kitchen, I hit the corner of the counter really hard, it was an accident—”

“Really?” Brendon snapped. “I’ve had a lot of accidents and most of them don’t tend to turn my skin that shade of purple, especially the ones that happen in my _house_.”

Ryan crossed his arms over his chest, hugging them tightly against his body. As if he could physically feel the other boy’s discomfort, Brendon took a couple of steps back, his expression softening a bit. “Ryan, you know you can tell me if he’s hurting you.”

Ryan’s jaw clenched. “He’s _not_.”

Brendon’s eyes narrowed. “So you acting all nervous and strung-out and stiff whenever he’s around, and being jumpy and quiet _all_ the time now, and suddenly wanting to change the way we act onstage after like three years of never having an issue, and having a _giant fucking bruise_ that you’re very obviously trying to hide, you’re saying _all of that_ is just _completely coincidental_ and has _nothing_ to do with the pretentious jerk you’re dating?”

“I… christ, no, I…” Ryan rubbed his hand over his forehead, trying to stop his brain spinning long enough to formulate a decent response.

“Don’t lie to protect him, Ry, just tell me. You can tell me.”

“Just stop! Just stop already, jesus christ!” He shoved past Brendon and started cramming his clothes back into the bag he’d brought them in. “You’re so fucking _negative_ , you just want to find a problem with _everything_ , god forbid I try to be with someone and be _happy_ for once—”

“That’s not what I—”

“Just shut up!” He stuffed the shirt he’d just taken off into the bag and yanked the zipper, cursing under his breath when it caught on the fabric. He heard a throat being cleared and looked up to see Spencer lurking in the doorway, glancing back and forth between Brendon and Ryan.

“You guys okay…?”

Ryan gave up on the zipper with a frustrated sigh. “Fine,” he spat. He shouldered the bag and stormed out of the dressing room, thrusting past Spencer without making eye contact. From the corner of his vision he saw Jon’s confused gaze follow him out of the complex. Before the door finished swinging shut behind him he’d already heard his name uttered several times in confused and not-very-hushed tones. He threw his bag into the backseat of his car and flung himself down onto the driver’s seat.

Bending forward, he let his forehead hit the steering wheel and tried to force out the frustration and anxiety that had built up in his chest. He clutched his torso with one hand, fingers pressed tightly against the dull ache in his ribcage. He squeezed his eyes shut but all he could see behind them were Brendon’s, stretched wide with anger and concern.

_Fuck._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay I'm FINALLY finished with this chapter, if anyone's been waiting sorry for taking so long, I am really fighting the fog brain right now for a number of shitty reasons and I am having a really hard time telling whether what I'm writing is good or super terrible. sigh.
> 
> anyways I hope it ISN'T super terrible, if you're here thanks for reading, I love you, leave a comment/kudos, thanks love you bye for now xoxo
> 
> oh and p.s. there will be lots and lots more bden and ryro drama in the next couple of chapters if you're into that woo hoo


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> woooo look who's finally updating woooooohoooooooo
> 
> SORRY I know I promised in the comments it'd be up like Tuesday night / Wednesday morning but... idk I don't really have a good excuse other than le brain fog. but anyway I loved writing this once I finally got back into the right stride, I listened to The Last of the Real Ones on repeat all night last night finishing it (SO GOOD BLESS U FALL OUT BOY) and proofed it just now while I'm supposed to be paying attention in class (lmao) and I'm actually quite confident that I <3 this chapter and I think I did a good job!!
> 
> CHAPTER TW: attempted rape/assault & violence toward the end of the chapter (also Ryden feels & everyone cries)

Two weeks passed and nothing was getting better.

In fact, if Ryan hadn’t just about lost the ability to be honest with himself, he probably would have realized that things were getting much, much worse. Liam was irritable approximately ninety percent of the time and when he wasn’t he was all over Ryan, showering him with an overwhelming amount of affection. This in turn made Ryan twitchy and anxious approximately one hundred and ten percent of the time. It didn’t help that Liam had begun to demand more and more of Ryan’s attention and pretty much mandated that Ryan either invite him over or come to his place any time he wasn’t at work and Ryan wasn’t at practice.

And when Ryan  _ was _ at practice, he wasn’t fully present. Half of his mind was always preoccupied with worrying about which side of Liam he’d be going home to when the music died down and the instruments were lowered. He was too tired and strung out to even separate his Panic life from his relationship life. His fingers kept twisting into the wrong chord shapes, his opposite hand strumming too few or too many times, and he could never quite seem to suppress the nervous flinch that followed every mistake, the instinctive expectation of a sharp, biting reproach or slap across the face.

It didn’t help that at some point while Ryan’s mind was fuzzy and disengaged his bandmates had convinced him to add Behind the Sea to the setlist for tour. It especially didn’t help that they were two days away from leaving on said tour and he was still finding himself unable to give a satisfactory performance of said song.

“Wait, wait, wait‒” Spencer stopped drumming, waved his right stick in the air until the others had quit playing. “I thought we weren’t supposed to go right into the ‘waves’ part there? Like isn’t there just a little bit more of a pause because you wanted to build‒”

“Sorry, sorry,” Ryan blurted out, having already begun to nod like a bobblehead in agreement. “Yeah, that’s‒that’s totally right, that’s my bad, I forgot to…” He trailed off, fumbling with his tuning so he could continue avoiding the three perplexed gazes that had turned his way. “Let’s just start again, I’ll remember this time.”

“We could just start from the second chorus?” Jon suggested. “You’ve already had to sing this song a lot today, and we’ve pretty much got the first half of it down.”

Ryan swallowed and nodded again, pretending not to hear the pity in Jon’s tone or notice the worried looks being exchanged between his bandmates. He forced himself to focus on the clicks of Spencer’s drumsticks as he counted them in, compelled every neuron in his brain to the task of making sure he didn’t fuck everything up this time. His voice sounded dry and tired to his own ears but he kept singing.

They made it to the end of the song without another mistake, to Ryan’s immense relief. Spencer stretched, arching his back as a slow smile spread across his face. “Hey, that time was perfect.” He yawned, dropping his drumsticks so he could crack his knuckles.

Ryan felt a pang of guilt, not needing to check his watch to know they had gone at least an hour later practicing than they had planned. Because of him.  _ Again _ .

“Yeah, so I think we’re done for the day, right?” Jon lifted the strap of his bass over his head. “And tomorrow’s packing day, so we’ll come back Wednesday for a few more run-throughs?”

“Yep.” Spencer stood up, shouldering his drum bag and sliding his sticks into the outside pocket. “God, packing sucks.”

Ryan exhaled, kneeling as he lowered his guitar into its case. He heard a throat being cleared from above him and glanced up. He locked eyes with Brendon, whose hands were stuffed deep in his pockets, as though he thought they might do something unsavory if he didn’t reign them in.

“Can I talk to you for a sec?” It was the first full sentence he’d spoken all practice. It was also the first thing he’d said directly to Ryan in literally two weeks, since the blowout in the dressing room. Ryan blinked up at the other boy, feeling his head incline in a tiny nod of assent. He was too stunned to do anything else.

Spencer and Jon must have sensed that something awkward or equally distasteful was about to take place, because they blurted out a couple of quick “see-you-later”s and practically tripped over one another on their way out the door. Ryan scrambled to his feet. He stared warily at Brendon as his bandmate shuffled closer, his eyes more unsettlingly somber and sad than Ryan had ever imagined they could be. He was too distracted by the entirely unnatural nature of this to fully notice Brendon’s hands sliding out of his pockets and reaching toward him. Only when Brendon’s fingers closed over the scarf around Ryan’s neck did he snap back into the moment at hand. He flinched, backing up a step, but not quickly enough; Brendon was already pulling the fabric away.

He said nothing for a moment. Ryan stared down at the floor, feeling tiny tremors run through his limbs. His hands and arms felt gangly and extraneous and odd. He crossed them tightly over one another, hugging his body like it might fall apart.

“Ryan.” Brendon finally broke the silence. “You… he… oh my god.”

His voice cracked. So did something inside Ryan’s chest. He bit down on his lip, hard, trying to distract his brain enough to keep from bursting into tears. He refused to look up, unwilling to see his pitiful self reflected back in Brendon’s disappointed gaze. He could only imagine how this looked; how weak and pathetic and downright  _ stupid _ he must seem, especially after all the things he’d said the last time they talked.

He saw Brendon reaching out again from his peripheral vision. He cringed away, managing to grab the scarf back while doing so. “I’m… I… why did you do that?” His words came out tiny and small and he wished he could snatch them back out of the air as soon as he heard them.

“You never keep scarves and jackets on when we practice.”

That was true. He was vaguely surprised, as well as resentful, that Brendon had noticed and actively recalled something so mundane, but he had indeed removed neither his jacket or scarf throughout the entirety of the day’s practice.

“Ryan. Look at me.”

“No.” Ryan wrapped the scarf back around his neck, still looking anywhere other than at Brendon’s face.

“Are you still going to deny this is happening? When you’ve pretty obviously dropped at least ten pounds in like a month and you’re on the verge a panic attack all the time and your neck is covered in fucking  _ bruises _ ? Did he… jesus christ, was he trying to  _ kill _ you?!”

“Why can’t you just leave it alone?” Ryan snapped, his voice wavering.

“Because I’m‒I’m  _ scared _ , Ry, I’m scared he’s actually going to kill you and I’ll have just stood by and  _ watched _ … god, Ryan, I don’t know why you… You don’t deserve to be treated like this, can’t you see that?! I can’t stand seeing you get fucking  _ hurt _ like this… god, how can you stay with someone who does this to you, I would  _ never _ do this to you‒”

“What?” Ryan chanced a glance upward, stomach twisting into a knot when he saw the teary glaze over Brendon’s eyes. Brendon took a step toward him, then another, and this time Ryan let him.

“It should be me,” he whispered. “It shouldn’t be him. And I wouldn’t… god, I wouldn’t  _ ever _ …” His gaze left Ryan’s long enough to stare for several painful seconds at the tight winding of scarf around Ryan’s neck.

“You…” Ryan blinked, struggling to process what was going on. “Wait. Wait, you… How long have you… I-I… What are you saying?”

“I didn’t say anything because I didn’t know for sure that you even…  _ felt _ that way about guys, or about me, and then that might mess up the band, and I just… I got… nervous.” A deep, worried frown creased Brendon’s brow. “Then all of the sudden you were with him, and I tried to deal with it, and then…”

“I went to Seattle.” Ryan was shaking now. He wasn’t sure if it was from nerves or the sick, growing frustration in the pit of his stomach. “I left my own twenty-first birthday party and flew to _fucking_ _Seattle_ in the middle of the night‒”

“Ryan‒”

“There’s a  _ song _ about it on our  _ goddamn record _ ‒”

“I‒”

“And you  _ still _ couldn’t tell me?! Until  _ right now? _ ” He couldn’t keep the tears in his eyes anymore; they spilled frantically down his face, leaving large, wet tracks. Brendon was crying too, and kept wiping his sleeve impatiently across his eyes to soak up the wetness there.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry Ryan, I know I fucked up, I wanted to tell you‒”

“You waited until I was w-with someone e-else‒” He gasped sharply, words cut off by the impact of Brendon’s mouth slamming into his. With no conscious prompting his body melted against the other boy’s, needy lips moving to deepen the kiss, insides surging with warmth and every fiber of his being screaming  _ yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, yes _ ‒

_ No. _

He ripped himself from Brendon’s arms, eyes stretched wide with fear and alarm as the image of Liam’s face, contorted in fury, flashed through his mind. “I-I… Oh my god. I can’t…”

“Ryan‒”

Ryan stumbled away from Brendon’s outstretched hands, shaking his head wildly from side to side. “No, I can’t, holy shit, I c-can’t…” He fumbled with the doorknob for an eternal fraction of a second before he managed to fling it open, stumbling out into the hallway beyond as fast as he could force his legs to move.

“Ryan!” Brendon called after him. Ryan tried to pretend the hurt and desperation in the other boy’s voice didn’t feel like sharp knives being stabbed into the pit of his stomach. “Ryan,  _ wait! _ ”

With shaking hands he jammed the key into his car’s ignition, peeling out of the parking lot  _ Grand Theft Auto _ style.

“Don’t think about it, don’t think about it, don’t think about it, fuck,  _ fuck _ , okay. Okay.” He struggled to keep his breathing level while simultaneously  _ not _ continuing to drive like he was in a videogame where the point was to break traffic laws and destroy things in his path. “Okay. This is fine. Okay.” He realized as he paused at a stoplight that he had subconsciously begun to drive toward Liam’s apartment, because  _ fuck _ they had made plans to hang out there after practice ended and  _ fuck fuck fuck _ he was already so late and  _ shit fuck god dammit _ he hadn’t even remembered to call Liam to let him know.

The rest of the drive flew by in a haze of panic and Ryan’s hands were still shaking as he stepped out of the car. The cold evening air hit him like a slap in the face. It was insanely cold out for April in LA. Ryan vaguely recalled hearing several days prior that they were supposed to experience a random cold front this week, one last hurrah from winter before spring continued breezing in. He pulled the sleeves of his jacket down over his hands and shivered. Maybe Brendon was right. Had he really lost that much weight? He felt colder than he should, felt his clothes hugging him less in the places they ought to, felt the jut of his hipbones when he thrust his fingers into his pockets.

Liam opened the door before he even made it to the front stoop. The lamp by the door cast long shadows over his face against the contrast of the evening’s fading light. “You’re late.”

“I know. I’m sorry. Practice went long, I meant to call. I’m sorry.” Ryan scuffed his feet against the sidewalk, hesitating on the bottom step and flushing beneath Liam’s cold stare. After several long seconds Liam stepped to the side, leaving enough space for Ryan to slip through the door before it slammed shut behind him with an unnecessary bang.

Ryan stared down at his feet, fingers fiddling with the buttons of his jacket while he tried to decide whether or not to take it off. Liam sighed, and Ryan heard his footsteps change tone as he stepped from the wood-floored foyer into the tiled kitchen. He dropped his hands and shuffled after. He left his jacket on. He was still cold.

The kitchen table had been pulled out to the center of the room and was laden with plates, silverware, and glasses. Ryan felt a sharp pang of guilt accompanied by a flash of anxiety. “Did… was I… were we supposed to have dinner?” he blurted out. “I-I’m sorry, I didn’t realize‒”

“I know you didn’t.” Liam’s back was turned to him as he fiddled with something at the countertop. Ryan’s eyes traveled around the kitchen, landing on a bottle of red wine that was missing its cork and also appeared to be quite… empty. He licked his dry lips and glanced back toward Liam, who had turned around and was holding two wine glasses, these filled with white instead of red. Hoping his fingers weren’t trembling too visibly he reached out and accepted the one being offered to him.

Liam took a long sip from his glass, still regarding Ryan with a cool but unreadable expression. “So when were you going to tell me about ‘Ryden’?”

Ryan choked on the tiny sip he’d been taking, the wine burning as it was sucked into his windpipe. “W-What?” he spluttered, his hands now  _ definitely _ shaking in a very visible way.

“It’s a cute name, I guess, although I don’t think the spelling is quite right.”

Ryan set his glass down on the counter and backed up several steps, watching warily as Liam knocked back another large sip. “Liam, that’s… that’s not…”

“Well, you can imagine my surprise to find out that when you plug ‘Brendon Urie’ and ‘Ryan Ross’ into the same Google search, all these fun ‘Ryden’ videos and pictures pop up‒”

“Nothing has ever happened between us,” Ryan said, his pitch climbing higher with desperation. “It was just a fan thing they came up with, it wasn’t‒” He was cut off by his own sharp scream of surprise as Liam suddenly flung his glass to the floor, remaining wine and all, shattering it in full.

“Oh, it wasn’t? It wasn’t? With all the cute little pictures and videos and ‘proof’, you expect me to believe it ‘wasn’t’?” Liam mocked. He took several steps toward Ryan, his strides just unsteady enough to confirm Ryan’s initial wine-bottle suspicions: he was drunk. Really drunk. Ryan backed up until he felt the wall behind him block his path.

“I’m sorry,” he whimpered, hating himself for how pathetic he sounded. “I’m sorry, there was just nothing to tell, I didn’t think about it‒” Liam cut him off by swiping a plate from the table and flinging it violently to the floor. It crumbled into scattered bits of ceramic at Ryan’s feet and he flinched, shrinking against the wall and wishing it would swallow him whole.

“You wanna play games? You wanna make a fool out of me?”

“No‒”

“I don’t _play_ _games_ , Ryan. But if I did, I’d fucking _win_.”

Ryan yelped and shielded his eyes as the next plate came hurtling toward his face, just barely missing as he cringed away and heard it break against the wall. Liam snatched him by the throat, the scarf’s fabric just barely keeping his fingernails from digging viciously into Ryan’s flesh.

“ _ You’re _ with  _ me _ ,” he snarled, his mouth close enough for Ryan to smell the alcohol on his tongue before his breath was cut off completely. He grabbed at Liam’s hand, trying to pull it away enough to draw air into his lungs. He stared beseechingly into the other man’s eyes but found no sympathy there, just glittering darkness and a glaze of drunkenness. It was like Liam wasn’t there at all, that even the traces of everything good Ryan had once seen in the man had vanished to be replaced by this utterly evil, monstrous being. In the brief moment that followed, as his lungs screamed for oxygen and his heart attempted to beat itself out of his chest, all he could hear were Brendon’s words being repeated back to him inside his head.  _ Was he trying to kill you? I’m scared. I’m scared you’re going to die _ . Because now Ryan was scared of the same thing. Because if that happened, he’d never hear that voice ever again.

Liam’s fingers loosened their grasp and Ryan went limp, sagging against the wall behind him and gasping for breath. He whimpered as Liam gripped him by the collar of his jacket, lifting him to his feet and pinning him chest-first against the wall.

“You’re with me,” Liam repeated, snarling the words into Ryan’s ear. “You made a  _ promise _ to be with  _ me _ .”

The blood was pounding in Ryan’s ears, distracting him too much to come up with a decent response. As the oxygen-deprivation fog in his brain cleared he became aware of the fact that Liam’s hands were gripping his waist, that fingers were fumbling with the button of his jeans.

Sick realization lurched through him. “N-No, no, Liam no…” He grabbed at Liam’s fingers, trying to pull them away from his body. He felt Liam’s heavy breathing on the back of his neck as they struggled, the sound of it broken up by Ryan’s breathy whimpers.

“You’re with me,” Liam muttered again, trying to swat Ryan’s hands away while simultaneously fumbling with his jeans. “You‒” He grunted at the impact of Ryan’s elbow in his stomach, loosening his grip enough for Ryan to wriggle completely out of his grasp. He snatched at the back of Ryan’s jacket, the fabric just barely slipping out of his fingers as Ryan scrambled away.

Adrenaline pumped through him screaming  _ run run run run _ and he stumbled to the front door, still unsteady from the long seconds spent without oxygen. He managed to fling it open and stagger down the steps before Liam could right himself, already yanking his car door open by the time Liam made it to the open doorway.

“It’s over!” Ryan screamed, piercing the night air around them. “I can’t! I’m done!” He saw Liam’s jaw drop, saw him open his mouth to retort, but Ryan was already shutting the door, backing out of the driveway as fast as he dared. Liam’s silhouette quickly disappeared in the rearview mirror as Ryan sped away, doing 50 in a 35 until he’d put at least six blocks between them.

As his heartbeat slowed and the adrenaline ebbed, full comprehension of what had just happened washed over him and he started to shake. He pulled over to the side of the road and put the car in park. He sucked in several long, deep breaths, then leaned over the steering wheel and promptly burst into tears.

Once his heaving sobs had finally died down some ten minutes later, he sat up, wiping his face with the back of his hand. He slid his cell phone from his pocket, scrolled through the contacts, pressed ‘call’, and raised the phone to his ear before he could change his mind.

“Hey.”

He released the breath he didn’t know he’d been holding, feeling himself relax at the sound of the warm, gentle voice on the other end of the line.

“H-Hey. Um… are you at home?”

“Yep.”

“Can I come over?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hoooooookaaaaaaaay I can't WAIT to write the next few chapters so hopefully they will get churned out a tad bit faster than the fourth one did. no promises. we'll see. lots of feels and drama in the next chapter and then things are gonna get a little hairy/fucky/what have you so BE PREPARED. that part in the tags where I was like "uh it won't make you rip your eyeballs out but stiiiiiiiill"? yep. it's comin' folks.
> 
> as always thanks for reading I love you all!! please leave a kudos if you like what you're reading so far and if you have it in you to leave a comment I ADORE comments!! I actually write twice as fast when people comment even if it's just like "ADSHJFSKH KEYBOARD SMASH SMILEY FACE HEART EMOJI" because lmao that means my readers actually exist who woulda thunk
> 
> okay I'm done rambling hope you all have a great weekend love you byyyye


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> me: i'm gonna update ASAP this time!!!!!  
> me 1 week later: still taking 5ever to finish chapter  
> me 10 days later: FUCK IT I'M STAYING UP TIL 6 AM TO WRITE THIS SHIT BOY I'M BOUTTA
> 
> so yeah uhhhh here it is. I hope this chapter is good, after staying up ~3 hours later than I meant to tonight trying to get it all down I'm too excited about this chapter FINALLY BEING DONE to wait til tomorrow to proof it, soooo yolo I guess
> 
> also yeah I think one of the reasons this chapter was so hard to write is bc the TLDR of it is essentially "emotion emotion smut smut emotion smut smut smutty smut (emotion) smut emotion smuuuuuuuuuut emotion cute wait FUCK" so yeah interpret that as you will (or idk just read to figure out wtf I'm even talking about idk it's 6am am I even saying real words rn?? who knows) but I think just writing a chapter that is ~80% smut was just like p h e w yknow
> 
> also the next chapter is the chapter where things get all fucky and disturbing and no spoilers but I'll give you one guess as to who is the person being fucky and disturbing (hint: ur s'posed to hate him cuz he sucks)
> 
> anyway happy reading thanks for being here thanks to the love love loooovely peeps who've been commenting and leaving kudos, opening my email and seeing that people are dropping comments literally makes my day every time so THANK YOU and keep it coming because I love love love love LOVE IT <3

It took Brendon exactly seventeen seconds to open his front door following Ryan’s frantic knocking. Ryan knew this because he had started counting to distract himself from the growing feeling that he was going to vomit from stress.

“It’s over,” he blurted out as soon as Brendon’s face appeared in the doorway. “I ended it. It’s over.”

Brendon stared back at him for a moment, his mouth slightly ajar as he took in Ryan’s frenzied, disheveled appearance. “You… what?”

“It’s you. It’s you, it’s always been you, I-I… I don’t want anyone else. Especially not… him.”

He hugged his arms to his chest, clenching his jaw to keep his teeth from chattering. Brendon noticed immediately and reached out to him, tugging gently at his elbow. “Christ, Ry, it’s so cold, come inside, come here…”

Ryan allowed himself to be pulled past the threshold so Brendon could shut the door. Brendon laid one hand, soft and hesitant, on his shoulder, staring at him with large, earnest eyes. “Are you okay? Did something happen?”

Ryan felt his lower lip quivering and lowered his gaze to the floor. “No, I… I mean…” He took a deep breath, trying to suppress the fresh tears threatening to spill from his eyes. He’d thought he’d cried himself out earlier in his car, but apparently not. “I’m sorry I’m so stupid, you must think I’m s-so weak‒”

“What? Ryan, no, god…” He tried not to flinch when Brendon’s fingers brushed against the side of his face, tenderly stroking along his cheek. “I don’t think any of that, c’mere.”

Brendon’s arms were warm and strong and as they wrapped around him Ryan melted easily into the embrace, his face nestling into the crook of Brendon’s neck like it was made for that purpose alone. He let his guard down long enough for a quiet sob to sneak past his lips. He could feel Brendon react, his shuddering release of breath against Ryan’s ear, his left arm tightening around him and the right moving up and down in soothing motions along his back.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have been so stupid, I shouldn’t have stayed, I’m sorry,” Ryan babbled, his words muffled against Brendon’s neck. His skin smelled like he’d just showered and the fabric of his t-shirt was soft and springy-detergent-scented and Ryan wished he could just stay in this position for the rest of his life. “I-I didn’t know that you… I wouldn’t have…”

“Ryan, baby, shh,” Brendon whispered. “It’s okay. You don’t have to be sorry. You didn’t do anything wrong.” Ryan felt Brendon’s lips press gently against the top of his head, the rest of his body flooding with tingling warmth in response. He pressed his body closer to Brendon’s and, without pausing to think about it, moved his lips against the other boy’s neck in what could hardly be mistaken as anything other than a kiss.

He felt Brendon stiffen, heard the slight hitch in his breathing, and pulled away just enough for them to look one another in the eye. Brendon sucked his lower lip beneath his front teeth, a nervous expression painting his face. “Is this… I mean are you… I didn’t mean to freak you out earlier and if you aren’t comfortable I get it…”

Ryan shook his head, feeling his cheeks flush with warmth. “No, it’s… I want to.” He hesitated, pondering the cheesiness of the line he was about to drop before adding, his voice soft, “I feel safe with you.” Fuck, it sounded just as cheesy out loud as it had in his head. Without giving Brendon time to reply he leaned in and pressed their lips together.

Brendon returned the kiss immediately, one hand cupping the side of Ryan’s face and the other gently gripping his hip. Ryan felt the same rush as before wash over him, the thrill in his stomach, the tingling just below his skin every time Brendon touched him. Even before things with Liam had gone south it had never felt like this between them. This was _more_ , Ryan’s brain babbled at him from beneath the haze of excitement, trying, as always, to put words to literally everything he experienced ‒ this was _more,_ this was… _it_.

His body was finally starting to warm up, and he released his grip on the front of Brendon’s shirt long enough to let his jacket slide down his arms and land in a heap on the floor behind him. They came up for air at the same time as his fingers wavered over the scarf around his neck, hesitating to reveal for the second time that day the bruises it hid. Brendon saw his indecision and cautiously took one end of the scarf, watching Ryan’s face for signs of the same negative reaction as earlier that day. Ryan bit down on his lower lip, but stood otherwise still and allowed Brendon to pull the fabric away. It landed on a pile on the floor next to his jacket.

Ryan could practically feel his now-uncovered bruises burn in the openness of the air around them. He averted his eyes, beginning to feel nervous again. He took a quick breath, lips parted, starting to say something, anything, to give some sort of explanation that he had failed to provide earlier. Brendon cut him off by leaning in and planting the gentlest of kisses in the crook of his neck. Ryan nearly went limp in response, just managing to bite back a startled gasp.

He could feel Brendon’s lips curve into a small smile, feeling the reaction of Ryan’s body against his. He continued to leave a trail of tender kisses down the thin skin stretched across Ryan’s throat until Ryan couldn’t stand it any longer. He hooked his fingers beneath Brendon’s chin and tilted his face back toward his own. Their lips met again, moving hungrily against one another, until Ryan felt Brendon’s tongue prodding tentatively at his closed mouth. He parted his lips, granting access. Brendon gave a moan in response that sent a shiver crawling all the way to the tips of Ryan’s toes.

Brendon stumbled back several paces, hands on Ryan’s hips to pull him along, until his legs hit the armchair of the couch. He broke the kiss as he fell backward over it, a cheeky grin spread across his face as he tugged at the front of Ryan’s shirt in silent invitation. Ryan clambered after him, Brendon’s sprawling form leaving just enough room for Ryan’s knees to find footing on either side of his torso.

Ryan bent down, lips meeting Brendon’s in another fervent kiss. Brendon’s fingers rose to the back of Ryan’s neck, toying with the short hair there. After a moment of hesitation, Ryan slipped his fingers beneath the hem of Brendon’s shirt. He slid his hand halfway up the other boy’s stomach, eliciting another moan in response. Brendon waited until Ryan’s hand had reached his chest and then sat up, helping Ryan remove the shirt completely with his free hand.

Ryan stayed upright for a moment while Brendon settled back against the couch cushions, taking in the sight before him. He had seen Brendon shirtless before, of course ‒ his bandmate was anything but shy, and they’d spent so much time in close quarters with one another ‒ but never like this, breathless and wide-eyed, hair tousled every which way, lips parted and silently begging for the feeling of Ryan’s against them.

He ran his fingers experimentally over Brendon’s chest, tracing invisible patterns in the other boy’s skin. Brendon tugged at the front of Ryan’s shirt again, watching Ryan’s face for response as his fingers unhooked the lowest button. Ryan replied by maintaining eye contact as he raised one hand to his chest and pulled the top button from its hole. He leaned down and locked their lips back together, feeling Brendon’s hands scrambling beneath him to undo the rest of the buttons of his shirt. The fabric was being slid down his arms within seconds.

Brendon’s fingers ghosted down the sides of his torso, sending shivers running from his tailbone to his neck. His thumbs circled around to where they both knew the faint outline of Ryan’s bruise was still visible. Brendon kept his eyes on Ryan’s face, though, like he was trying to memorize what he saw there. Ryan dipped down for another kiss, this time letting his lips fall upon the indent between Brendon’s neck and jawline.

He heard Brendon’s shuddering sigh against his ear and smiled to himself. Brendon’s hands were still sliding up and down his upper half, carefully exploring his skin without ever dipping below the waistline. Through the soft haze of ecstasy building in his brain Ryan had a sudden realization: he was in complete control of the situation. Brendon had silently handed it over to him the moment he’d walked in the door; no announcement, no flourish, no fanfare.

Ryan wasn’t sure what this meant, if anything significant; all he knew was that it wasn’t what he was accustomed to, and it filled him with a rush of warmth first and excitement second. Deciding to put his newfound awareness to experimental use, he slid his knees backward and lowered his hips until his groin was resting on top of Brendon’s. Brendon’s startled breath rushed past Ryan’s earlobe and Ryan elected to push one step further, pressing down until he could feel Brendon’s growing erection through both of their jeans.

Brendon gasped outright at that, a full-bodied shudder running through him. “F-Fuck, Ry, are you‒ maybe we shouldn’t‒”

“I want to,” Ryan whispered back. “I want to.” He nipped teasingly at Brendon’s earlobe, enjoying Brendon’s quiet moan in response.

“You’re sure? Like, really sure?”

Ryan lifted his head, meeting Brendon’s gaze. “Yeah. I am.”

They stared at one another for a moment, both memorizing the way the other looked, shirtless and out of breath, sparkling eyes stretched wide with elation and anticipation. Then Brendon slid his hand back up Ryan’s neck, pulling him in for a fervent kiss. At the same time he sat upright, breaking the kiss only long enough to murmur “bedroom”, and swung his legs over the side of the couch. Ryan, his footing gone, scrambled to put his feet to the floor, but Brendon quickly wrapped one arm around his waist, holding their bodies together as he stood up, grunting a bit under his breath.

 _Oh._ Ryan hooked one leg, then the other, around Brendon’s torso, clinging tightly to alleve some of his body’s weight and still returning Brendon’s eager kisses as he walked them down the hallway. He wasn’t sure Brendon would be able to do this if Ryan hadn’t been allowing himself to thin out from stress, but _fuck_ was it hot all the same.

Brendon bent forward, dropping Ryan backward onto the mattress before climbing on top of him. He kissed in quick succession from Ryan’s belly button to his collarbone, propping himself up with his left hand and teasing at Ryan’s waistband with his right. Ryan reached down and freed Brendon’s jeans button from its hole, teasing the zipper down with his fingers. He used both hands to guide the fabric down Brendon’s thighs, until Brendon was able to step out of them and kick them to the floor.

Brendon was just as quick to remove Ryan’s trousers and drop them over the side of the bed. He watched Ryan’s face for reaction as he bent down and used his tongue to nudge Ryan’s erection through the fabric of his boxers, smiling when Ryan gasped and arched his back slightly in response. With the tips of his fingers hooked around the waistband, Brendon began to tug the underwear down Ryan’s hips. His eyes stayed glued to Ryan’s face, his movements slow at first to allow ample time for Ryan to react negatively and backpedal if needed.

Ryan met his gaze readily, his face slightly flushed but free of the fear and hesitance Brendon was checking for. He lowered his head once more, this time opening his lips around the tip of Ryan’s dick, his tongue sliding up and down the shaft. The noise that exploded from Ryan’s mouth fell halfway between a moan and a whimper. He could feel Brendon smiling again ‒ smiling _around his erection_ , holy fuck ‒ which was in and of itself nearly enough to send Ryan over the edge right then and there. His hands twisted around the bedsheets, clutching large fistfuls and hanging on for dear life.

“Fuck, B, I-I can’t…”

Brendon seemed to understand immediately, stopping the blowjob and moving his lips back to Ryan’s neck, his jaw, his mouth. He kissed him long and full, letting Ryan’s tongue explore his mouth for several moments before breaking away and reaching for the drawer of the bedside table. Ryan tilted his head, watching Brendon fumble for a condom and lube as he took a moment to catch his breath.

Brendon propped himself up on one arm, looking down at Ryan and brushing the fingers of his free hand over the other boy’s face. “You okay?” he whispered. Ryan nodded, fingers playing in Brendon’s dark locks. “Do you want to top, bottom…?”

Ryan blinked, not fully comprehending the question for several seconds. “I. Um. B-Bottom.” He could feel himself blushing and hoped Brendon didn’t notice. He wasn’t used to being _asked_ that sort of thing ‒ which, if he were to think about it for any amount of time longer than what he had to spare at the moment, he would probably decide explained a lot about his sexual comfort levels now versus in the past.

He forced himself to relax when he felt one of Brendon’s fingers teasing at his entrance. The digit slid in easily, well-coated in lube. Brendon waited for a moment, then pushed deeper. Ryan had only a split second to wonder why Brendon was watching his face so closely before he felt it, oh god fucking dammit fucking _it_ , and his hips gave an involuntary buck upward in response as a small gasp left his lips.

A cheeky grin spread over Brendon’s face, sending a tingly shiver up Ryan’s spine. He slid a second finger inside, twisting and then scissoring them gently.

“Still good?” he whispered, waiting for Ryan’s breathless nod before he dipped down and stole a quick kiss. He continued to watch for signs of distress as he stretched his partner further, adding a third finger and, eventually, a fourth. He drew the act out possibly longer than he needed to, until he was absolutely certain Ryan was ready. Ryan watched him roll the condom on through heavy-lidded eyes.

He lined himself up and began pushing in, eyes screwing shut and a low moan slipping past his lips. Through the rush of pleasure he heard a sharp hitch in Ryan’s breathing. His eyes snapped open. “Ry?” he panted, forcing his hips still for a moment.

“I’m okay, I’m good,” Ryan mumbled. Brendon pressed his forehead against Ryan’s, stroking his cheek tenderly before resuming his movements, pushing slowly until his hips were flush with Ryan’s. He paused, giving Ryan time to adjust, and started stroking his partner’s erection, enjoying Ryan’s small keens of pleasure in response before he began to pull back outward, keeping his thrusts as slow and contained as he could manage for the first couple of minutes.

He started to speed up, peppering kisses across Ryan’s cheeks and down his jawline. Now used to the movements, Ryan drew his legs up, hooking them around Brendon’s torso, arching his hips against Brendon’s hand as his strokes quickened along with his thrusts.

“Fuck, B, I’m… I’m c-close, B, I’m gonna‒”

“Yes, baby, yes, come on,” Brendon panted. He mashed his lips against Ryan’s for a long second, thrusting as fast as he could now. Ryan gave a shuddering cry as he came, which in turn sent Brendon careening over the edge. Brendon laid still against Ryan’s chest, waiting a moment before carefully pulling out and rolling off the condom, tying it off and throwing it to one side.

A short groan of exhaustion rumbled in his throat as he flopped down on his back, turning his head to gazing at Ryan with a sleepy smile spread across his face. Ryan rolled over, sidling up against Brendon and resting his cheek against the other boy’s shoulder. “Mmm. Wow,” he mumbled, his voice partially muffled against Brendon’s skin.

Brendon looped his fingers through Ryan’s hair. “What?”

Ryan gave a small shrug, the movement somewhat lost in translation from the way he was lying on the bed. “That. Wow.”

Brendon’s lips curved into an amused grin. “Yeah?”

“Mm, yeah.” Ryan yawned, nuzzling his face against Brendon’s arm. “Didn’t even hurt.”

Brendon’s smile disappeared. He stared down at the other boy, unsure of whether he’d heard him correctly. “What did you say?”

“Didn’t hurt at all,” Ryan murmured, repeating himself before glancing up and catching sight of Brendon’s suddenly somber expression. A shadow fell across his own face and he sat up, a jolt of uncertainty shooting through him. “What? What’s wrong?” Fuck, what had he done this time?

Brendon gave his head a quick shake, forcing his own body into an upright position and reaching for Ryan. “Nothing, nothing. Sorry.” He slipped his arms around Ryan’s shoulders and pulled him into his chest, planting a gentle kiss on the top of his head. “It’s just. It’s not supposed to hurt, is all, I mean, except for maybe just a minute or two, but…” He shook his head again, breaking off before he started rambling. “Nevermind, I just… I’ll never hurt you, Ry.”

Ryan twisted around, curling against Brendon’s chest and burying his head in the crook of the other boy’s neck. “I believe you,” he whispered back.

-

It was already well past two in the afternoon by the time Ryan forced his eyes open the next day. He and Brendon had laid awake at least another hour murmuring softly to one another, suspended in the soft limbo located somewhere in the space between awake and dreaming. Ryan yawned and nudged Brendon’s shoulder with his nose.

“Mmm,” Brendon mumbled, rolling over to face Ryan. He cracked his eyelids open just a smidge, watching Ryan lean in and peck a quick kiss against his cheek.

“We gotta get up,” Ryan murmured.

Brendon groaned loudly. “What? No.”

“Yes. It’s packing day.”

“Mmm. No. Don’t wanna.”

Ryan rested his chin on Brendon’s shoulder. “We have to. We won’t have any clothes.”

“Okay. We’ll just go naked.” Brendon snaked an arm around Ryan’s shoulders, rolling against him and blowing raspberries against his neck. Ryan laughed, squirming against him. The sound seemed to wake Brendon up a bit more. He opened his eyes fully and snuck a quick kiss.

“Let’s just make Jon and Spencer pack our stuff,” he mumbled into Ryan’s hair, nipping at his earlobe.

“We’d still have to get up to let them into our houses.”

“Fuuuuuck.” Brendon rolled over, crossing his arms across his face dramatically. Ryan poked a finger into his side, snickering when he jerked and writhed away in response. He moved his arms away to frown crossly up at Ryan. Ryan stuck his tongue out in response and slipped out of bed, glancing around in search of his clothes.

Brendon groaned again at the sight of Ryan leaving. “Ugh, booooo. Packing day sucks,” he stated again, making grabby hands at Ryan as he watched him find his pants and slip them on.

Ryan sidled back up to the side of the bed, twining his fingers through a lock of Brendon’s dark hair. “Maybe if we get all packed today, we could… leave practice together tomorrow?”

Some of the grumpiness disappeared from Brendon’s expression. “Promise?”

Ryan smiled, brushing Brendon’s bed-rumpled hair to one side and pressing one last kiss against his forehead. “Yeah.”

-

It was still cold out, even in the dead of the afternoon. Ryan shivered as he climbed the front steps of his stoop, fumbling with his house keys. He tried to remember whether they were headed north or east first on this tour, longing to be able to trust the temperature to at least stay above 50 degrees throughout the day in the middle of April. He shut the door hastily behind him, trying to let as little chill inside as possible.

As soon as the _click_ of the lock sounded in his ears, he was startled by an arm suddenly wrapping around his chest from behind, a second hand thrusting a wad of cloth over his nose and mouth.

“Surprise,” a voice whispered. His blood went colder than the air outside. He tried to jerk away from the bear hug he was now trapped in, only to have the strong arm leave his chest, the now-free hand squeezing tightly around his throat instead. He gasped out of reflex, unwillingly breathing a lungful of air through the sweet-smelling rag pressed over his face. His knees buckled beneath him, arms dropping weakly to his sides as darkness crept into the edges of his vision.

“It’s not over until I say it’s over.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yo what's up my readers, betcha thought it'd be at LEAST another week before ya girl strikes again, no? well, the writing bug struck. who am I to deny that primal urge to stay up past 4 in the morning banging out my most disturbing chapter to date??
> 
> TW for this chapter = ABUSE ABUSE ABUSE ABUSE ABUSE
> 
> I'm sure you all suspected it was coming so I'm here to confirm your suspicions. there is abuse, there is rapey shit, there is some FUCKED UP WEIRD BEHAVIOR so pleeeeeease mentally prepare yourself and don't hate urs truly because honestly I don't know where my brain gets this stuff but I felt very compelled to shape this story around it so... yeah idek. but here it is.

It was cold.

He felt as though an unseen weight was pulling him down, holding his conscious hostage in limbo. He could sense, vaguely, his surroundings, his body, but couldn’t get his eyes to open. A tingling pins-and-needles sensation was shooting up and down his arms, which he seemed to be lying on top of. When he tried to move them apart they stayed put. He could feel something binding them together at the wrists. His legs were both bent at the knee and curled to one side. He tried extending them and his feet, both bare, hit against some sort of metal, hole-filled barrier. He heard it rattle, his brain trying to place the sound in its familiarity. 

He forced his eyes open.

His surroundings slowly came into focus. He blinked, attempting to clear his vision several times before he realized the crisscross of silver suspended over his face was neither a blackout-induced hallucination nor the result of something stuck in his eye, but a permanent fixture of his whereabouts. His wrists were bound tightly together with… was that duct tape? He wasn’t wearing a shirt. He wasn’t wearing pants. He wasn’t wearing anything except his underwear.

There was something fastened around his neck, though, he could feel it rubbing against his skin as he shifted weight; a leathery type of material, with a hard, metallic object pressing into his nape. He processed this for less than a full second before realizing the overarching horror of the situation: the metal barrier at his feet, the silver crisscross over his head, it was all connected. He was lying inside a cage.

A cage. A  _ cage _ . A literal, motherfucking  _ cage _ .

He was in the floor of his bedroom, the only thing out of place seeming to be the fact that there was, again, a  _ literal motherfucking cage _ on the floor, inside of which he seemed to be… trapped.

And fuck, it was cold.

“Oh good, you’re awake.”

Ryan jumped and twisted his head around, flinching when he saw Liam sitting on the floor next to him. He wore an eerily calm expression and was twirling a keyring through the fingers of his right hand. As he stared back at Ryan, observing the blatant fear on the other boy’s face, his lips snaked into a smile disturbingly devoid of emotion.

“Comfortable?” he mocked, smirking when he saw Ryan wince in response. “Thought so. I even turned the heat off to make sure.”

Ryan whimpered under his breath. “Wh-Why are you‒”

He was instantly cut off by a sharp stabbing in the back of his neck, followed by pain surging through his body. His mouth fell open, back arching in response to the jolt. Just as a scream of agony was building up in his chest, the sensation ceased as quickly as it had begun. He stared up at Liam, his breathing labored and his eyes stretched wide with horror, gaze flicking from the man’s face to the small black object he was holding in his hand.

Liam leaned closer and Ryan shrank back even with the metal bars between them. “Did I say you could speak?” he hissed. Ryan bit down hard on his bottom lip, stifling the sob that threatened to escape. “You think nothing you do or say has consequences, am I right? I think it’s about time to fix that. Don’t you?”

Ryan had never been so scared in his life. There was no emotion, no  _ humanity _ , in Liam’s eyes, just a black pit of crazed malice that Ryan had never before seen the likes of.

_ He’s going to kill me. He’s actually going to kill me. _ The panicked thought reverberated through Ryan’s skull. He clenched his jaw as tightly as possible to contain the frantic need to cry that burned in the base of his throat. He couldn’t hold back the tears behind his eyelids, however, and they begun to spill unchecked from the corners of his eyes.

“Aw, poor Ryan,” Liam sneered. “Don’t cry, baby. I’m just trying to help you learn your place!” He rose to his feet, pacing slowly from one side of the cage to the opposite. Ryan followed the movements with his eyes, afraid to look away for one second. “That thing around your neck? That’s a shock collar. Remote control, the kind hunters used on their dogs. I did tamper with it a little, I’ll admit. Didn’t think it was quite…  _ shocking _ enough.”

He grinned down at Ryan, obviously amused with his own pun. Ryan trembled beneath the stare.  _ He’s crazy. He’s literally insane. _

“See, Ryan, maybe you didn’t realize it then, but you really made a mistake leaving the way you did last night. Thinking you could just call off everything between us like it’s some casual affair and then  _ run away? _ ” He shook his head and crouched down, the fingers of his free hand looping through the cage bars. “You and I, we’re  _ supposed _ to be together. I thought you realized that, but apparently I was wrong. Or maybe you did and just forgot somewhere along the way.”

His hand was reaching for the lock now, his fingers sliding the key into the large metal box. Ryan watched with apprehension. He wasn’t sure which he preferred the least at the moment; being trapped inside of the cage, which also kept Liam _ out _ , or being physically at the mercy of whatever wild thought process was running through Liam’s head.

Liam jerked the door open, fingers closing around Ryan’s ankles. With one strong pull he succeeded in yanking Ryan’s body halfway out of the cage perimeter. Ryan bit down so hard on his lower lip he drew blood, but didn’t make a single sound. His back pressed uncomfortably into the slightly raised divide between the cage and the floor.

“I think I can fix this. I do think it’s possible.” Ryan sucked in a breath, barely suppressing a scared yelp when he felt Liam’s hands on his stomach, sliding smoothly up each side of his torso. “Love, dependency, right and wrong, everything boils down to choices and behavior and instinct. Everything can be learned. Sometimes you have to unlearn before you can relearn. It can get complicated. But it’s possible.”

He was just running his mouth now, Ryan thought, though in all honesty he had hardly the mental willpower to process half of what was crawling off of Liam’s tongue at this point. He was too focused on staying perfectly silent, and those hands, cold, silky, crawling hands, sliding up his chest and over his jawline, the other slipping down, down, further down…

He felt the waistband of his boxers being inched past his hips and squeezed his eyes shut. He was shaking now, all over and rather violently, from the stress and effort of remaining silent in his state of utter terror. He could feel Liam’s fingers probing, drawing out the psychological torture. He struggled to breathe through his tears while still holding his mouth tightly shut.

Then Liam pushed in.

Three fingers. No lube, no moisture, no prep, no warning.

Ryan couldn’t help it. He  _ screamed. _

Then the fingers were suddenly gone and so was the other hand from on top of his chest and that pain was replaced with another, but still familiar pain, starting with the biting jolt against his neck and traveling down, down, side to side, down, up, through his entire body and  _ fuck _ this was longer than the last one and his back was arched and his nails were digging into his palms and his lips were still stretched into a scream but his throat had gone silent, given out, and his body was going numb–

It stopped.

Tears flowed freely down the sides of his face. Several seconds passed before he began to regain feeling, but when he did he immediately pulled his legs back toward his chest, curling them inward in one last desperate, self-protective motion. His brain couldn’t even process fully what had just happened, the fact that Liam had essentially forced him to torture himself, he just knew he had to be quiet, had to be still, had to stop even  _ thinking _ about the  _ possibility _ of making another sound.

“Good boy,” Liam whispered, the words barely cutting through the pounding of blood in Ryan’s ears. He stared blankly ahead, reacting only with a focusing gaze and trembling chin when Liam shifted to a position in his direct line of vision.

“You know what they say, though.” The hand was back, this time trailing up and down along his thigh. “Third time’s a charm, three’s the magic number, good things come in threes… something like that. Yes?”

No.  _ No _ .

The hand slid toward the inside of his thigh.

Had he not just been tricked into inducing self-torture twice Ryan would have started screaming right then and there. Instead he just kept swallowing down the sobs as they rose toward the surface, trying to focus on something else,  _ anything _ else.

The underwear was being pulled away again, stopping halfway down his thighs this time. Liam’s hands slid up and down, in and out, outer thighs inner thighs hipbones stomach outer thighs inner thighs. Ryan was distracting himself by counting backward from one hundred when he felt the wet heat of a tongue. He nearly cried out, instead sucking in a shuddering breath and feeling his mind start to focus against his will upon what was happening below his waist.

Liam knew what he was doing, for someone from whom Ryan had not once received a single blowjob. He coaxed Ryan into an unwilling erection within minutes, his hands working in congruence with his lips and tongue. He wasn’t going to stop, Ryan realized. He wanted to see Ryan get off to this. He wanted the gross satisfaction of knowing that even in the most horrific situation he could make that happen, could make Ryan feel even more vulnerable and helpless than he already did by stealing every last bit of control he had over his own body.

The sick feeling that accompanied his new awareness nearly dulled his erection completely. Then Liam started humming.

Ryan gasped out loud and writhed in place, struggling to escape the horrible unwanted vibrations of pleasure traveling through him. Liam’s fingernails dug into his hips, palms pressed firmly into his thighs and holding him steady. He couldn’t stop himself, he felt the pressure building in his groin along with the noise behind his tongue and his strength and resolve were growing too weak to stifle either.

He came.

At the same time, he started sobbing, heavy, haggard sobs that tore through his chest and were definitely  _ not silent _ .

He saw through his tears Liam pulling away, his hand reaching for the remote. “N-No, please,  _ please _ ‒” He was silenced for a third time, rendered powerless by the current ripping through his body. No longer possessing the strength to resist the pain, his body went limp, his head falling to one side and bobbing in time with the slight convulsions rippling through him.

To his immense relief, this shock ended earlier than the one before it ‒ or perhaps he had just lost the ability to sense time as it passed. Completely spent, he barely flinched when Liam snaked his arm inside of the cage and gave his cheek a sharp pat.

“See? We’re getting there.” Ryan remained pliant as Liam gathered him up and half-hoisted, half-pushed his body fully back inside of the cage. The padlock’s clicking back into place sounded like a death sentence. Though Ryan no longer suspected Liam meant to kill him, he had no doubt that the clearly-unhinged man would have no trouble finding the fine line of what his body could withstand and cross right over it. It was only a matter of time.

_ Time _ . The word sparked something in his mind, something faint and growing more and more unfamiliar by the second ‒ hope? The overhead light was on in his room. That meant it was dark out. Nighttime. A new day approaching, when people would be expecting him, waiting on him to show up and, if there were any sort of karmic justice in the universe, worrying when he didn’t.

“I think we both need some alone time now, but I guess it wouldn’t be fair if I left without telling you the rules.” Liam gave the cage a sharp kick with the toe of his boot. Ryan flinched, the blow landing inches from his face and vibrating the entire enclosure. Having caught the boy’s attention Liam crouched down again, holding up a white receiver-looking device.

“This is a baby monitor. One of the best ones you can buy, actually. And just like all those dedicated parents out there, with this I’ll be able to hear  _ any and every _ tiny little sound you make. And then, as you of course know, with  _ this _ ‒” He dangled the keychain from his other hand, flashing the remote. “‒I can then do something about it.” He smirked and twisted a knob at the top of the monitor, turning it until it was all the way up. He placed it on the floor just an inch from the side of the cage.

The red indicator light blinked mockingly back at Ryan. Despair bubbled in the pit of his stomach. Not even on the occasion of being left alone would he be allowed to relax for a mere  _ second _ , to let loose one loud sob or whimper of terror. He was trapped both physically  _ and _ psychologically with no chance of escape.

“Oh, and one last thing.” Liam walked around the back of the cage, Ryan struggling to follow the movements with his tired eyes. He heard a slight scraping sound, followed by a light gust of wind.  _ Fuck. _ Liam was opening the window.

“The more motivation, the better, of course. Don’t worry, I don’t think it’s too cold to manage. And even if it is, frostbite is treatable, we’ll be able to nip that in the bud.” Ryan fought back a scream of frustration and fear as Liam smacked his hand against the side of the cage and strode past him again, this time crossing the space between them and the doorway.

He turned back toward Ryan, one hand on the doorknob and one hand shaking that awful remote in Ryan’s direction. “Remember… not a sound. I’ll be listening.” He smirked and pulled the door shut behind him. Ryan waited for the  _ click _ before letting his face slump to one side, the few tears that were left behind his eyes trickling out and his chest heaving with sobs he could give no voice to.

Another gust of wind, gentle but sharp and cold all the same, blew into the room, stinging Ryan’s bare skin. He shivered and curled into himself as far as he could manage.

_ Brendon _ , he thought desperately.  _ Brendon, please figure it out. And please… please hurry. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'M SORRY I'M SORRY I PROMISE IT'LL BE OKAY AND I'LL TELL YOU JUST HOW IT WILL BE OKAY ASAP
> 
> SORRY THAT WAS SO ROYALLY FUCKED UP BUT THANKS AS ALWAYS FOR STICKING AROUND AND READING AND BEING JUST GENERALLY AWESOME I LOVE YOU ALL
> 
> (& reminder... if that chap got u all got damn fired up u should drop a line and yell at me about it below!!)


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yaaay ya girl finally back with the updaaaate
> 
> sorry this took SO LONG guys, I know we were on a really super shitty cliffhanger when I last left you and I'm so sorry to have left you all (and poor Ry) hanging. this chapter turned out SO MUCH LONGER than I originally thought it would be, like seriously 2 or 3 times the length of all the others, and I had a lab report and a homework to get through this week before I could tackle the latter half of this chapter. but anyway, here it is, in all its dramatic, emotional, heartwarming, tear-covered glory. enjoy, see ya next time, leave some comments for me when ya get done, etc etc xoxoxo <3 (also thanks so much as usual to you lovelies who've been leaving notes for me, love you so much!!!)

Ryan was late.

When he wasn’t scurrying through the door two minutes early, immediately reaching for his guitar and a tuner, Brendon told himself to stop worrying so much, not to jump to conclusions. When he wasn’t rushing in two minutes late, apologizing for any slight delay or inconvenience he might have caused, Brendon told himself that it was fine, there might be traffic, these sort of things happened.

When five more minutes passed and he still wasn’t there, Brendon slid his phone out of his pocket and checked for missed calls or texts.

When he saw that he had zero missed calls and texts, he pulled up Ryan’s contact profile and pressed ‘call’.

Straight to voicemail.

Spencer and Jon were both staring at him as he slowly lowered the phone from his ear, noting the way his face had drained of color. He glanced back and forth between them, trying to keep his breathing steady.

“Something’s wrong.”

-

“No, he definitely keeps a spare key somewhere, he’s told me before.”

“I thought he stopped doing that after he moved from his last place, though.”

“Guys, fuck, it doesn’t fucking matter, I’ll break the goddamn door down if I have to.” Brendon rocked back and forth in the passenger seat, his gaze flicking quickly back and forth between Spencer and the road. “Spence, you’re killing me, you gotta drive faster.”

Spencer frowned, but didn’t argue, pressing down on the gas pedal until the speedometer had increased by five miles per hour. “How long have you known about this, again?”

Brendon shook his head. “Not long. I mean, I guess I’ve suspected for awhile,” he amended. He bit down on his lower lip, trying to push down the guilt that churned in his stomach as he thought about how he had watched the light slowly disappear from Ryan’s eyes over the past couple of months, seen his demeanor transform from soft, gentle, and carefree to nervous and scared almost overnight, noticed every time he caught sight of a new bruise or mar on Ryan’s smooth, pale skin.

Spencer’s hands squeezed the steering wheel, his knuckles turning white. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

“I didn’t think I had to!” Brendon snapped. “Did you really not suspect that something bad was going on between them? It’s not my fault I was the only one who decided to try to get it out of him instead of just tiptoeing around hoping that he would just magically be okay without anyone trying to intervene!”

Spencer’s expression darkened. He opened his mouth to give a sharp retort, but Jon leaned forward from the backseat and placed a hand on each of their shoulders. “It doesn’t matter now. There was no right or wrong way to handle it.”

Brendon rubbed his hands over his face, trying to stifle the tears of frustration building up behind his eyes. “He said it was over between them,” he mumbled, his voice muffled. “I should have known better, I shouldn’t have let him leave, I should have‒  _ fuck _ , I should have gone with him…”

Jon and Spencer both glanced at him curiously. “What are you talking about?” Spencer asked, hardly slowing down to make a sharp turn onto Ryan’s street. “Leave… your place? When?”

“Yesterday,” Brendon murmured, staring straight ahead as the front of Ryan’s apartment came into view.

He saw Jon and Spencer exchanging glances from the corner of his gaze, but thankfully there was no time left to ask or answer questions because the car was rolling to a stop and Spencer was throwing on the brake and they were all scrambling out onto the pavement.

Brendon made it to the front stoop first. Though he had no expectations that the front door would be unlocked, his fingers wrapped around the doorknob and gave it a sharp twist. To his astonishment, the door gave way. The apprehension he’d carried with him since leaving the practice space grew stronger as he stepped inside, Spencer and Jon at his heels.

“What the fuck, why is it so cold in here?” Spencer grumbled, pulling his jacket tighter around his body. Brendon shivered in response. It was nearly as cold inside the house as it was outdoors.

There were no lights on, the only source of illumination coming from the natural light that poured through the windows. A blinking flash of red caught Brendon’s eye and he turned toward the kitchen, spotting on the countertop what looked like a… baby monitor? He glanced about warily before stepping fully into the room. Next to the monitor lay Ryan’s cell phone and a keyring, attached to which was a small gold key and a round black plastic object.

Not yet knowing just what it might be useful for, Brendon snatched up the keyring and turned back around as Jon emerged from the back of the unit.

“The back door was open,” he reported. “And the heat was turned off completely.”

Brendon was having trouble breathing now, his heartbeat a loud, fast thrumming in his eardrums. “Ryan?” he called, no longer concerned with exercising caution. He darted past Jon and raced up the stairs, taking them two at a time. He grabbed for the doorknob, nearly tripping over his own feet as he flung the door open.

“Oh my god, Ryan, oh god…” He stumbled forward and dropped to his knees, one shaking hand trailing along the side of the cage in front of him, the cold metal stinging his fingers. “Ryan, hey, baby, hey…” He kept mumbling under his breath, his brain struggling to keep up with his fingers as they fumbled to slide the key he’d grabbed from downstairs into the large padlock wrapped around the cage door. As the lock gave way and fell to the floor he heard a sharp intake of breath from behind him. He glanced up, locking eyes with a very color-drained Spencer for a brief moment, abject horror painting both of their expressions.

Brendon jerked the cage door open and reached inside, trembling fingers ghosting across Ryan’s cold skin. His lips were tinged blue. “Ryan.” Brendon struggled to keep the panic out of his voice. “Ryan, hey, can you hear me?” He could see the rise and fall of Ryan’s chest, feel the breath on his hand as he reached up to cup Ryan’s pale cheek in his palm. Ryan’s eyelids fluttered in response to the touch, the pattern of his breathing changing ever so slightly.

There was a sharp slam as Spencer, who had crossed the floor to the other side of the room, yanked the window shut. He watched as Brendon, biting down hard on his quivering lower lip, leaned further inside of the cage and gathered Ryan in his arms.

“Jon,” Spencer barked, striding quickly back to the doorway. “Jon, turn the fireplace on, hurry.”

Brendon pulled Ryan close to his chest and rose to his feet, breathing deeply and forcing his legs steady as he followed Spencer down the stairs. Jon stared up at them from where he crouched by the electric fireplace, blue and orange flames jumping to life in front of him.

“Here‒” Spencer grabbed a blanket from the back of the couch and tossed it in Jon’s direction. “Warm this up.” He disappeared into the kitchen as Jon, frowning uncertainly, held the blanket out toward the fireplace, rotating the fabric slowly in front of the flames.

Brendon settled into a seated position a foot or so away from the fire, arranging Ryan carefully in his lap. The color disappeared from Jon’s face as he stared down at the two of them, taking in Ryan’s current state. Brendon tried not to think about all the thoughts that must be running through his friend’s head, the conclusions he must be jumping to; if he hadn’t been wading through a mental pool of anxiety his brain would have been doing the exact same. As it were, he was just trying to keep himself from devolving into a state of hyperventilation or some similar point at which he would no longer be of any use to Ryan.

_ Ryan. _ He gazed down at the boy cradled in his arms, fingers smoothing his hair away from his forehead, skin still cool to the touch. There was a stabbing, aching, throbbing pain in his chest, accompanied by a deep guilt he couldn’t shake because he knew, deep down, that this was all his fault.

_ If I’d taken him home. If I’d stopped it earlier. If I had just said something to someone else, literally anyone else… I should have known something like this was going to happen. _

He looked up as Spencer strode back into the living room, his paces long and quick. He held a glass of water in one hand and a pair of kitchen scissors in the other. Brendon watched as Spencer dropped to the floor next to him, placing the water out of the way before carefully snipping through the thick winding of duct tape binding Ryan’s wrists behind his back.

As Spencer peeled the tape from Ryan’s skin with slow and gentle movements, Brendon felt Ryan stirring against him. He held his breath while he watched Ryan’s eyelids flutter, more restlessly this time, like he was really trying to force himself awake. Spencer had been rubbing Ryan’s stiff, blue-tinged fingers between his palms for at least a minute by the time Ryan’s eyes finally cracked open and rolled upward to meet Brendon’s. They immediately widened at the sight of the other boy’s face, and Brendon tried to give what was meant to be a reassuring smile in response.

“Hey, hey, I’m here,” he croaked. He moved his shaking hand from Ryan’s hair to the side of his face, thumb smoothing along Ryan’s cheekbone. “It’s okay, you’re okay.”

Ryan tore his gaze away just long enough for his eyes to flick around the room, taking in his surroundings. His jaw clenched, lower lip quivering, and he pulled his arms in toward his chest, Spencer immediately letting go of Ryan’s hands when he felt the motions of resistance. Ryan’s fingers rose to his neck, groping at a thick piece of leather that was wrapped around it. Brendon had hardly noticed the unfamiliar object until now, his brain only taking in information as it was necessary to help process the situation. He watched dumbly as Spencer, looking cautiously at Ryan for a long moment for his reaction, slipped one of the scissors blades between the leather and the skin of Ryan’s neck. Ryan cringed, his breaths growing shorter and quicker in response. Spencer cut through the material with one clean closing of the blades, and hurried to pull it away from Ryan’s skin.

The breath Ryan released upon feeling its absence sounded as if he’d been holding it for years. His fingers, no longer frantically scrabbling at his throat, closed around the front of Brendon’s shirt. “Wh-Where is h-he?” His voice was raspy, dry. Brendon tried to push away the thought that popped into his head at the sound but it rose to the surface anyway.  _ He’s been screaming, fuck, he’s screamed himself hoarse. _ “Where… Wh-Where is…”

_ Liam. _ Brendon’s shock was quickly melting into rage, collecting itself into a heated knot in the pit of his stomach. He shook his head, still caressing Ryan’s face tenderly. “He’s not here, Ry. He was gone when we got here.”

Confusion twisted Ryan’s features. He stared back at Brendon, eyes still filled with fear. “But… I-I…”

“Here, Ry.” Spencer picked the glass of water up from the floor and scooted a couple of inches closer. Ryan watched warily as the cup was raised toward his face, but still leaned up so that his lips could meet its rim, swallowing several needy gulps while Spencer held the glass steady. Jon held out the blanket in his arms, now warm from the heat of the flames, in their direction and Spencer grabbed hold of it. Brendon gently lifted Ryan up enough for Spencer to tuck the blanket around him.

Several quiet whimpers escaped his lips at the stark, sudden warmth. Brendon swallowed past the rising lump in his throat. He could feel the violent shaking of Ryan’s body against his own. “Hey,” he murmured, directing the boy’s gaze back toward him. “You’re okay. We’re here. Everything’s gonna be okay now, I promise. You’re okay now. You’re okay.”

Ryan’s lower lip was quivering again. He curled up as tightly as he could and turned his head, burying his face in Brendon’s chest before bursting into tears.

Brendon bit down hard on his lower lip, struggling to keep his own tears behind his eyes. “Oh, Ry.” His voice cracked. He leaned forward, pressing his lips against the top of Ryan’s head. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” he whispered.

“Brendon.” He glanced up at Spencer, who was holding out the strip of leather still clutched in his right hand. Fighting the sick feeling in his stomach as he did so, Brendon forced himself to take a closer look at the object. There was an adjustable buckle on one side and a square metal segment attached to the opposite end. He followed Spencer’s gaze to the back of Ryan’s neck, now exposed to them as Ryan wept into Brendon’s shirt. He couldn’t stop the gasp that rose from his lips when he saw what Spencer was looking at; there was a large red welt on the back of Ryan’s neck, in the same exact shape as the metal square in Spencer’s hand.

“This is… this is a shock collar. For  _ dogs _ .” Spencer’s voice shook with fury. Jon, his face pale, sank to his knees on Brendon’s other side, completing the semi-circle they had formed around the fireplace. They fell quiet for a minute, the silence pierced only by the snapping and crackling of the fire and Ryan’s violent, hiccuping sobs.

The gears in Brendon’s brain had started spinning, doing their best to piece together the bits of information they had picked up so far since walking into the house. The cold, the cage, the monitor, the collar, the little black piece of plastic on the keyring that was actually, Brendon realized now, a remote… the way Ryan, disoriented as he had been, had been careful not to make even the smallest of sounds until the collar had been cut away… Brendon clutched Ryan close to him like both of their lives depended on it, one hand stroking repeatedly along the top of his head. Ryan’s crying pierced right through him, every sob like a stabbing in his gut as he started to realize, or at least develop a good idea of, just what Ryan had been forced to endure over the course of the past twenty hours or so.

“I’m sorry baby, I’m sorry, I’ve got you, you’re okay.” His own tears were flowing fast now, several dripping from his face and landing in Ryan’s thoroughly-mussed hair. “I got you. You’re safe now, I promise, it’s gonna be okay. I promise.” He meant it. He didn’t care what the promise entailed; if it meant letting Ryan cry into his chest for hours every day for the rest of their lives, sleeping in shifts behind a barricade of locked doors and stockpiled furniture, hiring 24/7 security to patrol their surroundings wherever they went, he didn’t care. He would do it.

He continued his caresses, tender and soothing, until Ryan’s sobs began to die down, indicating that he had nearly cried himself out. Brendon left a trail of intermittent kisses along the top of his head, not missing the glance Jon and Spencer exchanged in response.

Spencer stared down at the collar still clutched tightly in his fist. “We need to call the cops.”

“No,” Ryan whimpered, voice muffled against Brendon’s chest. “Please, Spence, don’t…”

“Ryan…” Spencer swallowed, hard. He seemed to be struggling to hold back his own onslaught of tears. “We have to, we can’t just not report what he… what he  _ did _ to you…”

Ryan was shaking his head, several dry, leftover sobs racking his body. “Please… everyone will know, I can’t… I c-can’t…”

“Ry, if we report it they can go after him, they can find him and put him in jail‒”

“Everyone will find out, Spence, please…”

“Spencer.” Brendon’s tone was sharp as he bit the syllables out. “You can’t make him do that.”

Spencer gaped back at him in shock. “Are you serious? You just want to let that  _ bastard _ get away with this?”

Brendon shifted positions, wrapping his arm around Ryan’s shoulders and bringing one leg up as if to further shield him from the world. “No,” he admitted, his voice low. “But I don’t think it’s really up to us.”

Spencer glared down at the floor. “He’s going to get away with it. He’s still out there somewhere‒”

“Spence, stop,” Brendon snapped. He could feel Ryan shaking at Spencer’s words. “It’s okay, Ry,” he murmured. “Whatever you want to do, that’s what we’ll do. Okay?” He saw Spencer’s frustrated grimace from the corner of his gaze, but paid him no attention. As far as he was concerned, Ryan had had enough control stolen from him already. Forcing him to file a police report wasn’t going to help the situation.

Ryan sniffled, tilting his head just enough to peek up at Brendon with one eye. “I just want to go,” he mumbled, blinking a stray tear out of his eye. Brendon caught it with his thumb, brushing it gently from the side of Ryan’s face. “I w-want to leave. Like we’re supposed to.”

“On tour?” Jon couldn’t keep the surprise from creeping into his tone, even when Brendon shot him a warning look. “Are you sure?”

“I just want it to be normal, I don’t… I don’t want to mess it up…”

“You haven’t messed anything up, Ry,” Brendon interrupted. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

He felt Ryan’s fists curl tighter around their handfuls of his shirt. “I-I… I just want to go. Like we’re supposed to. Please.” Brendon felt him suck in a deep breath. “I can do it. I’ll be fine,” he said, forcing his voice steady.

The other three exchanged glances over Ryan’s head. “We should at least call Zack,” Jon said, after a couple beats. Seeing Ryan start to shake his head again, he rushed to add, “Ryan, it’s Zack. He’s not going to tell anyone. His one job is to keep us all safe. If anyone else should know, it’s him.”

“He’ll want to go to the cops too,” Ryan muttered.

Jon sighed. “Yeah, but… Look, I’ll convince him. Okay? Just let me call him.”

Ryan chewed his bottom lip for a moment before nodding a couple of times, his eyes downcast. He laid his head back against Brendon’s chest again, exhaling a long, shuddering breath. Jon stood up, pulling his cell phone from his pocket, and stepped into the foyer. Spencer scooted close enough to reach out and lay his hand on Ryan’s shoulder. Ryan flinched instinctively at the contact, but raised his eyes to meet Spencer’s gaze, the two of them exchanging something unspoken in the way that only they could after seventeen years of friendship. Brendon didn’t even attempt to read between the lines, just laid a soft kiss on Ryan’s brow when he felt the other boy relaxing into him again.

They heard Jon’s low tones from the hallway, rushing to keep up with Zack on the other line. There was a short pause, and Jon poked his head back into the room. “Zack thinks that we should maybe… go to the hospital.”

“No.” Ryan shook his head. “No, no. I’m fine, w-we don’t need to do that.”

“Ry…” Spencer hesitated, his eyes flicking up to meet Jon’s for a moment. “First of all, you were left in the freezing cold for… what, almost a day? You were unconscious when we found you‒”

“I’m not now. I’m warming up, I’m awake, none of my body parts are falling off‒”

“What if you change your mind later about filing a police report?”

“I’m not going to.”

“If there’s evidence on file at the hospital that could help later, prove that you went and something  _ happened _ ‒”

“Spencer,  _ stop _ ,” Brendon bit out. What little color had crept back into Ryan’s face was draining out again, and he quickly returned to his prior position of trying to disappear into Brendon’s chest. And somehow Brendon already figured he knew why ‒ Spencer was trying his best not to come right out and say it, but the insinuation was still strong. Hospital, evidence, report ‒ everyone currently in the room had seen at least one episode of  _ Law & Order: Special Victims Unit _ . Spencer wanted Ryan to get a rape kit done. Because Spencer was under the impression that Ryan was in the position of needing to get a rape kit done. Because the three of them had just found him next to naked inside of a dog cage with a collar around his neck.

Unsurprising, really, when put together that way. But Brendon still felt like throwing up.

“Ryan. Hey. Listen‒” He felt the beginning of another round of sobs being hiccuped out against his chest. “Ry. We’re not going to make you do anything you don’t want to do, or go anywhere you don’t want to go. If you don’t want to go to the hospital, we’re not going to go to the hospital.” He turned his fierce, protective glare on Spencer, who still looked like he wanted nothing more than to present the rest of his argument. They locked eyes for several long seconds, silently battling for dominance, before Spencer looked away, breathing out a longsuffering sigh, but staying silent.

Jon sighed. “Did you get any of that?” he mumbled into the phone. “Yeah, pretty much… Okay, yeah.” He put his hand over the receiver, turning back to the other three. “Zack says he’s going to go the stereotypical ‘WebMD’ route and if we can clear pretty much any scenario he reads about that requires immediate medical attention, he’s willing to let it go.”

Brendon just nodded, most of his attention still focused on Ryan. They sat quietly for awhile, listening to Jon’s end of the phone conversation going on in the other room, watching him intermittently poke his head in to glance in Ryan’s direction or ask Spencer just exactly  _ what color _ he remembered Ryan’s fingers and toes being when they first found him and whether they had since returned to their usual hue.

“Okay. Yeah, that’s what he said… Yeah, I’ll make sure.” Jon lowered the phone, clearing his throat. “He said for now, it’s probably okay not to go to the hospital… He asked me to make sure we still want to leave at ten tomorrow as planned.” He hesitated. “I know it’s not ideal but… we have two shows in San Francisco, and neither of them are sold out, a lot of people probably have tickets to both nights because you know how they are… I mean, if we needed to…”

“No.” Ryan didn’t bother to raise his head, his dissent perfectly audible though still muffled against Brendon’s chest. “It’s fine. Ten tomorrow.”

Jon nodded, not looking at all convinced. “Okay. Yeah, Zack, we’ll be there. Yeah, we know where to be. Okay. Uh… yeah, I think ‒ okay, yes, I’ll make sure… I’ll text you and let you know. Yes, I promise. Okay. See you tomorrow.” He snapped the phone shut and returned to his position next to Brendon, slowly lowering himself to the floor. “Zack wants to make sure that… um… well, he doesn’t think Ryan should stay here overnight. In case…”

“He can sleep at my place,” Brendon said as Jon trailed off, obviously hesitant to say aloud the words they were all mentally completing the sentence with:  _ In case Liam comes back _ . “Is that okay, Ry?”

“I’m not packed,” Ryan mumbled. “He came… before I c-could…”

“Okay, that’s okay. I can help you pack, too. Okay?” He waited for Ryan’s nod of affirmation. “Okay.” His right leg was falling asleep. He shifted his limbs about for a moment, rearranging Ryan’s position in his lap in the process.

Ryan raised his head, exposing his face to the others for the first time in at least twenty minutes, since Spencer had been arguing with him about the hospital. There was still very little color in his cheeks, dark circles rimming the skin beneath his bloodshot, tear-swollen eyes. He looked utterly exhausted, like he’d been awake for days, and Brendon felt a sharp pang in his chest when he realized, for the upteenth time, just how terrified Ryan must have been ‒ his body exposed to the frigid outdoor air, violently convulsing to keep him warm, all while he forced himself to stay quiet in fear of being punished ‒ Brendon wouldn’t have been sleeping, either.

“Jon and I should stay here until you’re both ready to leave,” Spencer murmured, staring into the fireplace. “Just… in case.”

Brendon nodded. Ryan didn’t react, his gaze still pointedly averted from everyone else’s.

“Should we go pack now then, Ry?” Brendon asked, as gently as possible. He was in no way eager to force Ryan back into the room he’d just found him in ‒ that room was, however, where most of his necessities happened to be located. “If you want, you could maybe just tell me what to pack and I can just go get everything together…”

“It’s fine,” Ryan muttered. He clasped his fingers together over his kneecaps, which were still pulled tightly against his chest. “I’ll be fine.”

“Wait.” Spencer pursed his lips, glancing back and forth between the both of them. “I think… maybe Jon and I should go… move some things first.”

Brendon nodded, cringing inwardly at the thought of having to lay eyes on that horrible metal assemblage even one more time. Ryan didn’t respond, just bit down on his lower lip. Without saying anything else, Spencer rose to his feet and moved toward the stairs, gesturing for Jon to follow. Brendon and Ryan remained where they were, Ryan staring blankly at the floor while Brendon’s fingers combed tenderly through his hair.

Brendon listened to the inevitable shuffling sounds as they traveled from right above his head toward the bottom of the staircase, trying not to focus too much on the way Ryan flinched every time the clanging of metal reached his ears. He changed positions again as the sounds grew nearer, turning his body to block Ryan’s view of the stairs. Ryan just continued to not react. Brendon was starting to wish he would, no matter how horrible it was to watch or deal with. Sobbing Ryan, screaming Ryan, angry Ryan, hysterical Ryan, terrified Ryan ‒ those, he could deal with, those he could understand, talk to. He wasn’t sure how to interact with zombie Ryan.

Spencer and Jon shuffled back into the room, Jon now looking as though he was going to be sick to his stomach.

“The heat’s been on long enough to get it a bit warmer up there,” Spencer said.

Brendon nodded, looking down at Ryan. “Ready?”

“Yeah,” Ryan mumbled quietly. He straightened his legs, ready to struggle into a standing position, but Brendon slipped his arms beneath Ryan’s knees and pulled his own feet up beneath him, rising from the floor with Ryan in his arms. Spencer raised his eyebrow at the sight of Brendon carrying Ryan bridal-style through the house, but said nothing.

Brendon paused when he reached the doorway to Ryan’s bedroom, feeling Ryan tense up in his arms. He waited a moment, catching his breath from climbing the stairs, before stepping inside.

Though Spencer and Jon had ensured that not a trace of what had happened in that room remained, Brendon couldn’t ignore the eerie feeling that had settled over the space. He perched on the edge of the bed, releasing his hold on Ryan and allowing him to arrange himself in a seated position, still clutching the blanket tightly around him.

“You okay?” Brendon murmured softly, asking again now that it was just the two of them. Ryan just nodded, gazing down at the bedspread in lieu of meeting Brendon’s eyes. 

The next twenty minutes or so passed quietly, with Brendon pacing back and forth across the room, grabbing this and that from the closet or the bureau, tossing items into the suitcase he’d found squirreled away beneath the bed. Every once in awhile he’d hold up an object or a few items of clothing he was unsure about, murmuring the other boy’s name softly to get his attention and wait for either a nod of approval or shake of the head.

When he was finished with the suitcase he moved on to the smaller duffel bag he’d found stashed inside, tossing in the spare shirt, pair of jeans, and underwear he’d set aside earlier. He left a black v-neck and pair of sweatpants on the bed beside Ryan and disappeared into the bathroom with the duffel in one hand.

He returned several minutes later, bag full of everything he imagined Ryan could possibly need from his bathroom over the course of the next two months. Ryan had slipped into the pants and shirt while Brendon was gone and was sitting with his knees to his chest and his hands clasped around them, staring down at the floor with a glassy look in his eyes. Brendon slowly lowered the bag in his hand to the floor and sidled up to the bed, hesitating before laying a light hand on Ryan’s shoulder.

Ryan gave a start, suppressing a flinch as he turned his head and blinked up at Brendon. Brendon forced a smile, hoping to appear at least somewhat reassuring. “Hey. You ready? Did I get everything you need?”

Ryan nodded, pulling the blanket back up around his shoulders and sliding off the edge of the bed. His knees threatened to buckle when his feet hit the floor, but he managed to steady himself before he fell the rest of the way. Brendon waited for his first couple of steps to make sure the same thing wouldn’t happen again, then shouldered the overnight bag and grabbed the handle of the suitcase with his free hand.

Spencer was turning off the fireplace when they re-entered the living room, his head turned to make eye contact with Jon as they exchanged conversation in low tones. Jon still looked vaguely as though he had seen a ghost, falling silent in the middle of a sentence when he saw Brendon and Ryan stepping back into the room. Spencer jumped up from the floor, looking back and forth between the two of them. He was clearly torn between demanding to help with one of the bags and slipping a steadying arm around Ryan’s shoulders. Brendon made the choice for him, holding the suitcase out in his direction.

They loaded Ryan’s car without much fuss, Ryan slipping silently into the passenger seat and shutting the door behind him while the others stashed his luggage in the trunk.

“We’ll go back to the space and get the instruments together for tomorrow,” Spencer said, slamming the trunk closed. Brendon nodded, waiting for the rest of whatever was on Spencer’s mind as his friend hesitated, clearly wanting to say more. “In case he changes his mind and says something to you… I took pictures. Before we moved the stuff. It isn’t much but it’s also all still inside and I’m sure there are fingerprints all over everything…” He trailed off, looking warily at Brendon’s face for a reaction.

Brendon sighed, tired of arguing on the subject. “Okay, Spence.” He raised his hand to his friend’s shoulder, giving it a quick squeeze before turning away. Spencer was just trying to help, Brendon knew that.

“Brendon.” He turned back around. Spencer glanced through the back window at Ryan’s hunched, blanket-covered form. “Listen, I don’t… I don’t know what’s going on between you two, and I guess I don’t really need to either, just… take care of him, okay?”

Brendon’s expression softened. “Always, Spence. We’ll be fine.” He glanced past Spencer to where Jon was lingering on the foyer, checking all of the locks from the outside and muttering quietly to himself. “Make sure Jon doesn’t have a fit or something, would you?”

Spencer managed a weak smile in response. “Yeah, okay. See you in the morning.”

The drive back to Brendon’s was quiet. He tuned the radio to the “throwback” 70’s and 80’s station, whistling under his breath to the more familiar tunes that came on. Ryan just stared out the window, not making a peep.

In fact, Ryan didn’t make a sound until they made it into Brendon’s apartment and up to his bedroom, where Brendon’s suitcase and overnight bag were sitting in the center of the floor. As Brendon dropped Ryan’s things haphazardly on top of his own, Ryan cleared his throat a couple of times, fingers fiddling with the edges of the blanket clutched around his shoulders.

“I need to take a shower,” he said quietly, eyes still glued to the floor.

“Okay. Do you, um… should I… I mean, do you need me to…” Brendon rubbed the back of his neck, feeling uncomfortable stumbling over his words but not wanting to come right out with the question  _ do you need help taking a shower? _ Thankfully, Ryan seemed to understand, and just shook his head. “Okay. I’ll warm up some leftovers then, while you do that. I think I have some Chinese or Thai or something that I was gonna try to get rid of tonight before leaving.”

“I’m not really hungry,” Ryan mumbled.

Brendon frowned. “How long has it been since you’ve had something to eat? Like two days at least, right?”

Ryan flushed, biting down on his lower lip. Brendon sighed. “You know I’m not gonna force you to do anything, Ry, but just… join me in the kitchen when you’re done? Please?”

“Okay,” Ryan whispered. Brendon cast him one more long look, which Ryan still avoided, before backing out of the room. He lingered in the hallway until he could hear water running from the the other side of the wall.

Thank the lord for leftovers, he thought as he stood in front of the open fridge door. He’d done his best not to accumulate many perishable items before they left for tour, which left his refrigerator and cupboards mostly barren aside from the several familiar white takeout boxes lining the top shelf. He took them all out and lined them up on the counter, splitting the contents evenly between two plates.

He waited until he finally heard the shower cut out, at least half an hour after he’d left Ryan in his room, to put the second plate in the microwave. He arranged it on the table next to a glass of water, a napkin, and a fork and perched on another chair, pushing what little remained on his own plate around with his fork while he waited.

Ryan shuffled in several long minutes later, briefly meeting Brendon’s gaze before his eyes dropped back to the floor. He slid into the chair next to Brendon, wordlessly picking up the fork in his right hand. Brendon pretended to be occupied with what was left of his own food, sneaking surreptitious sideways glances toward Ryan as he took small, slow bites.

He’d only gotten through about half the plate before his movements had devolved into dejectedly dragging his fork back and forth across the plate. “Done?” Brendon asked, after a few minutes of watching this go on.

Ryan lowered the fork. “Yeah. Sorry,” he mumbled.

“Hey, you did good.” Brendon took Ryan’s hand in his and gave his fingers a soft squeeze. “Thank you for trying.”

Ryan wandered off again while Brendon cleaned up and washed the dishes. Making his way back to the bedroom, he heard water running and the sound of a toothbrush tapping against the side of the sink. He glanced at the clock. It was only about seven in the evening, but he knew Ryan must be tired out of his mind and heaviness of the day had started to weigh deeply on Brendon as well. 

When Ryan exited the bathroom Brendon slipped inside to brush his own teeth. When he came back out, Ryan was curled up on the bed. His gaze flicked up to meet Brendon’s, and Brendon saw the fresh pool of tears that had gathered around his eyes. “I’m sorry,” he whispered.

“What?” Brendon climbed up next to him. “You don’t have anything to be sorry for.”

Ryan’s jaw clenched, and he stared off in the direction of the bedroom door, which Brendon now noticed had been closed and locked while he was in the bathroom. “I ruined everything,” he said, almost too quiet to be heard.

Brendon blinked. “Ry, no. What are you talking about? No you didn’t.”

“Y-Yes.” Ryan sniffled, letting several tears drip from his eyes. Brendon reached out and wiped each of them away. “Spencer w-wanted me to go to the cops and I c-couldn’t, and Zack wanted me to… to go the hospital a-and… we didn’t get to practice today and  _ I’m _ the one who needs to p-practice most and…” He buried his face in his hands. “I should have known, I sh-shouldn’t have let him… I shouldn’t have…”

“Ry, baby, shh, it’s okay, shh.” Brendon wrapped his arm around Ryan’s shoulders, pulling him into his chest. “Listen to me. Nothing that just happened was your fault. You couldn’t have known. You didn’t mess anything up and no one is mad at you. It’s not your fault.”

Ryan sniffled, burying his face in the crook of Brendon’s neck. They sat quietly that way, Brendon hesitating for several long minutes before finally asking, “Ry… can I ask… what happened?” He felt Ryan tense up and rushed to add, “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.”

Ryan exhaled. His left hand reached up, fingers finding Brendon’s and slipping into the spaces between them. “He was waiting in the house when I got home. He… drugged me. I passed out. I woke up…” He closed his eyes, taking a long pause. “He started… taunting me, and I tried to ask what was happening and…” Brendon felt a tremor run through Ryan’s body and gave his shoulder a soft squeeze.

“It hurt,” Ryan whispered. “So bad. And h-he was just talking about… I don’t even know what he was saying, some delusional bullshit that he’d convinced himself of, he was… he was crazy. It was like he wasn’t even all there, he looked at me and it was like he wasn’t…” He trailed off for a moment, shaking his head. “H-He, um.” He bit his lip, stared down at their clasped hands. “I don’t know if he was trying to prove a point or just… hurt me, but he… h-he opened the d-door and…” He closed his eyes again, taking several deep, shuddering breaths.

“Hey, it’s okay,” Brendon murmured. “It’s okay. If you can’t say it, that’s okay.”

“I… I want to… Just…” Ryan’s lower lip trembled, several more tears spilling from behind his eyes. “H-He… I didn’t want to…”

“Ryan… did he…” Brendon took a deep breath, sickened by the words that were about to come out of his mouth. “Did he rape you?”

Ryan was quiet for a minute, still trying to get his crying under control. “Not… not really… He was trying to, um… He was trying to get me to make noise, so he could… p-punish me, I guess. He, um… He f-forced his… his fingers… in me.” He squeezed his eyes shut. “And I screamed, and he pushed the button again a-and…” A short sob gasped out from between his lips. “He said he wasn’t d-done, he… he put his mouth… he wouldn’t stop until I had… until I… I didn’t want to, Bren, I didn’t want to, I didn’t‒”

“I know, I know Ry, shh, it’s okay. It’s okay. I know.” Brendon was crying again too, and planting his lips repeatedly against the top of Ryan’s head as if he could kiss his pain away. “I know. It’s okay.”

“I-I just… He’s still out there somewhere, B, and I… He’s literally insane, I don’t…”

“He’s never going to touch you again. Not ever. Okay?” He squeezed Ryan’s hand. “I won’t let him. If I ever so much as pick him out of a faraway crowd, he’s a dead man.”

“He could come after all of us, too,” Ryan murmured, his gaze flicking toward the window on the other side of the room. “Who knows how far he’ll go, what he’s capable of‒”

“Ry. Ryan. Look at me.” Brendon waited until Ryan had torn his gaze from the curtained window and raised his eyes to Brendon’s. “None of us are going to leave you to fend for yourself because some crazy asshole might come after us, too. You’re worth more to that to us, to so many people, don’t even try to suggest otherwise ‒ I mean we, we love you,  _ I  _ love you‒” He saw Ryan’s eyes widen imperceptibly and barrelled on without leaving too much time for a reaction. “And I do, okay, I mean that, I’m not just spouting off shit so that you’ll feel better about the situation, and you shouldn’t say it back right now because god knows you’ve got enough on your mind, but that’s how I feel. And I’m not going to walk away from you because shit got even more complicated the minute you and I were finally honest about how we feel about each other. Okay?” He placed a hand on either side of Ryan’s face, thumbs sweeping across his cheekbones to catch the fresh tears spilling from his eyes. “As long as you want me around, I’m gonna be right here. I’m not gonna let anything else happen to you.”

“Okay,” Ryan whispered.

“Okay.” Brendon pressed his lips against Ryan’s forehead. “Now let’s get some sleep, alright?”

Ryan nodded wearily, scooting back until he reached the headboard. Brendon flipped the covers down, then back up over the both of them. He let Ryan settle against his chest before reaching beside him and turning off the light. He laid awake for a good while ‒ it was, after all, still quite early in the evening ‒ listening to Ryan’s breathing while it evened out. His eyes adjusted to the dark and he watched Ryan’s features smoothing out as sleep overcame him, thinking about all of the promises he’d just made to the other boy and just how much he’d meant every single goddamn one of them.

So that was that, he thought to himself as he begun to drift of as well. If the situation was that Ryan needed comfort, healing, protection, reassurance, whatever ‒ he would be there to provide it.

_ Fuck off, Liam. I’m not going anywhere. _


	8. ANNOUNCEMENT (NOT A CHAPTER)

Hey everyone,

I just wanted to touch bases with everyone following this story and let you know where we're at right now. I've had a TON going on with work and school lately - I'm graduating in December so I'm working on my final group design project, I recently got a 2nd part-time job because I'm literally in the "I have negative money" realm of being broke right now, and I recently got off some medications that were making me so tired and brain-dead that I could barely function, let alone write.

I have started Chapter 8 but I have been so busy lately that I've been a bit removed from where the story is going. I know how the last few chapters will go and a couple of things that will happen between now and then, but I need to fill in the rest of the gaps in the plot and with all that's going on in my life right now I'm having a hard time jumping back into the story. I promise you all that I will not abandon this fic. I just need a little more time than I've had between previous updates to get the next few to you. If I can't manage to write the next chapter in the next month, I will for sure be doing it in between graduation and new years when I don't have to worry about school.

Thank you so, so much for following this story and reading my work, and thanks even more to those who have been leaving comments and kudos. I love you all very much!!

<3


	9. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HI GUYS LOOK WHO IT IS
> 
> idk how to technically structure this story chapter-wise anymore bc I kind of want to leave the announcement up in case I get new readers and I can't update for awhile again but that makes chapter 8 chapter 9 and now I'm bothered ugggh oh well ANYWAY hi, happy late thanksgiving, today I have been awake and not-busy and mentally present enough to actually give this story a little attention SO here is a short update for you all~
> 
> thank you all for being so patient with me not being able to update as much as I used to! I greatly appreciate it. I apologize if this isn't one of the strongest chapters (I feel like it ends a lil weird but I didn't really want to get into the next thing I had planned for this story because that's almost a whole second chapter in and of itself) but hey, it's somethin' at least. idk when I'll be able to update again but hopefully I'll have at least one more in the next few weeks. just continue to be patient with me pretty pls and I'll do my best!! <3

Ryan had been in the bathroom for eighteen minutes.

At some point someone would come looking for him. He was surprised Brendon hadn’t already. Then again, maybe no one had even noticed he was gone. It had been easy enough to slip away in the transition from soundcheck to backstage, especially with all of the members of the supporting bands coming out to exchange handshakes and excited small talk. Ryan couldn’t even remember who all they were touring with, though he did recall, vaguely, being excited about at least a couple of the bands when they’d first been revealed. But that was months ago, before even the first bruise had bloomed across his torso. It felt so far away now.

He rubbed his hands over his face and took a shaky breath. He’d messed up during soundcheck, more than once. His bandmates would be too concerned for his state of mind to say anything, but he knew they’d noticed. They were probably all thinking the same thing: that Ryan wasn’t ready to do this, wasn’t stable or capable enough to get onstage in front of thousands of people and actually sing and play the right notes and chord progressions. He was going to mess this up, for everyone involved. He’d take one look at the audience, one listen to the wall of screaming before them, and fall apart.

He was so fucking stupid, so selfish. He’d been so desperate to get away from LA, away from Liam, that he was about to blow the whole tour.

_ And let’s face it, you probably didn’t even do that, _ he thought, laughing bitterly at his unkempt reflection in the mirror.  _ He’ll probably just show up anyway. Maybe not tonight. Maybe not tomorrow night. Probably when you all least expect it. And it’ll be all your fault when he hurts not just you but everyone else. He knew you’d be too weak, too scared to go to the cops. He knew he’d get away with it. It’s your fault he was ever in everyone’s lives to begin with. You trusted him. Stupid, stupid, stupid… _

He slapped his hands over his face, fingertips pressed tightly over his eyelids. He was  _ not _ going to start crying again. For chrissakes, he needed to calm down. He needed to man up and stop acting like such a little bitch. He needed to get his shit together and play the damn show and stop fucking everything up for everyone.

Taking several long, deep breaths, he regarded himself in the mirror for a moment to make sure he didn’t look too much like he was about to collapse into a nervous breakdown.  _ Okay. You’re fine. Everything is okay. _

Except when he pushed against the door it didn’t budge.

He checked the lock. Made sure to twist the doorknob all the way to one side. He pushed. Nothing.

Maybe he was supposed to pull instead of push. He pulled. Nope. Pushed. Pushed harder. Pushed with his full weight against the door. Still nothing.

_ Oh god, he’s here. He’s here and he’s locked you in and he’s gone to find everyone else before he comes back for you. _ Now shaking violently, his hands fell away from the door and he backed up into the far corner. His heart was racing. He could feel it pounding in his skull. The walls were getting closer with every strangled breath he forced into his lungs. He sank to the floor.

_ Stay quiet _ , his brain reminded him.  _ Don’t make any noise or he’ll be mad. _ He covered his mouth with one hand to keep the panicked sobs rising in his throat from making it past his lips. With his free arm he hugged his knees to his chest, trying to become as small of a target as he possibly could. He squeezed his eyes shut, and prepared for the worst.

-

“Brendon. Brendon, hey.” Brendon paused mid-sentence, interrupted in his discussion with Justin from Motion City Soundtrack by Spencer shaking his arm. “Where’s Ryan?”

“What? Is he not--” Brendon stopped, glancing back at Justin. “Hey man, sorry, I’ll catch you later.” Not waiting for a reply, he grabbed Spencer’s elbow and dragged him out of earshot. “What do you mean, where’s Ryan? He was with us when we left soundcheck, is he not here?”

“No, he’s not here! Seriously, you hadn’t noticed he was gone?!”

Brendon clenched his jaw to keep from biting out a sharp retort. “Where’s Zack?”

“He went to talk to venue security after soundcheck. So they’d know about Liam and not to let him in.”

“Shit. Okay. Look, I’m sure he’s fine. He’s probably just in the bathroom or something. Or maybe he just felt overwhelmed with all the people and went somewhere quieter. I’ll go check, okay? Just stay here so it seems less weird to everyone else.” He walked away without giving Spencer a chance to argue, his stomach already twisting into a knot of worry. As much as he resented Spencer’s insinuation that he hadn’t been paying enough attention to Ryan, he knew from the pang of guilt in his chest that it was true. How had he not been the first one to notice Ryan was missing? What the fuck was wrong with him?

He hurried down the hallway, toward where he remembered seeing restrooms earlier on their way inside. He started to hear the faint sounds of snickering and whispers, and as he turned the corner he spotted two people lingering outside of the restroom in question. There was a chair wedged between the floor and the doorknob, and as he drew closer, his pace having quickened, he recognized the figures as members of one of the bands on tour with them; Phantom Planet, he was fairly sure.

“Who’s in there? What are you doing?” Brendon snapped as he came within earshot.

“Uhh, nothing man, it’s all good,” one of them slurred, a sloppy grin plastered across his face. The other snickered under his breath. It was clear just from looking at them that neither was sober, though Brendon couldn’t tell if they were drunk or high or maybe both. Glaring the both of them down, he kicked the chair out from under the doorknob, so harshly that it slid halfway down the hallway with a loud clatter. They both flinched at the sound.

“Yikes, bro, take it easy. It’s just a joke, man.”

“Both of you fuck off,” Brendon growled. “ _Now._ ”

They hurried away, stumbling a bit and muttering to one another under their breaths. Brendon exhaled and tried the door to the bathroom. It was unlocked. He eased it open, his suspicions confirmed when he peeked inside and saw Ryan curled up in the corner, face hidden against his knees and body shaking. Brendon’s heart sank. He slipped through the small opening he’d made, afraid someone would see them in passing if he opened the door further.

“Ry,” he said softly. Ryan’s head jerked up, a glassy look in his eyes that Brendon was unfortunately starting to become quite familiar with. He’d seen it when he’d woken up that morning to find Ryan curled up in a ball, staring into the bedcovers with silent tears trailing down his face. He’d seen it the day before while packing Ryan’s things, quite obviously jarring him out of some horrible memory with every question he asked. Movements slow and careful, he took a step closer and crouched down in front of Ryan, waiting for his brain to catch up and fully process what Ryan was seeing.

Several long seconds passed and the glaze faded. Ryan’s lower lip trembled and his hands reached blindly in Brendon’s direction. “Brendon, he’s here, he’s here, where is he? He locked me in, he’s here--” He was cut off by his own hiccuping sob. Brendon took the opportunity to slip his fingers through Ryan’s and pull the other boy to his feet, hugging him against his chest.

“He’s not here, Ry,” he murmured. “Just a couple of drunk idiots from one of the other bands playing a stupid prank. He’s not here. You’re okay.”

“I… c-couldn’t breathe…”

“I know, shhh. It’s okay, Ry. I promise.”

“N-No, it’s  _ not _ , I’m so _ pathetic _ \--”

“Ryan, no--”

“Just a fucking weak loser who can’t handle  _ anything _ \--”

“Ryan,  _ stop _ .” Brendon brought his hands to the sides of Ryan’s face, gently tilting his head up so he could look the other boy in the eye. Ryan met his gaze unwillingly, stray tears still spilling from the corners of his eyes. Brendon caught them on his thumbs, brushing each one away with a tender touch. “You’re not weak, Ry, or pathetic. You went through something super traumatic and your brain is still trying to process it. You have to give yourself time.”

“What if I was wrong?” Ryan whispered, his voice quivering. “About coming on tour. What if I… what if I can’t…” He bit down on his lip, closing his eyes to keep more tears from falling.

“Hey.” Brendon rubbed his hand along Ryan’s back in slow, soothing circles. “I believe in you. I believe you’re strong enough to do this and you wouldn’t have asked to if at least part of you didn’t believe that, too.” He paused, then added, “But if you can’t, we’ll deal with it. No one is going to put that kind of pressure on you if you can’t handle it.”

Ryan turned away, hugging his arms tightly against his chest. “I’m going to let everyone down all over again, I just know it, I know it, I can  _ feel _ it--”

“What? Again? Ry, what are you talking about?”

Ryan covered his eyes with his hands, a quiet sob shaking his shoulders. “I’m the reason Liam was in any of our lives in the first place and the reason I kept messing up practices and the reason everyone is stressed out now, all of it, it’s all my fault, I let everyone down, I mess everything up, I can’t do anything right--”

“Ryan,  _ stop _ .” Brendon grabbed the other boy by the shoulders, turning him back around. Ryan flinched, ducking his head. “Ryan, look at me,” Brendon pleaded, his voice cracking. Ryan’s eyes snapped up at the sound, some of the tension draining from his body when he saw that there were now tears in Brendon’s eyes, too. “ _ None  _ of what happened is your fault. None of it. No one thinks that. I  _ promise _ .”

Ryan lowered his gaze. “Jon and Zack can’t even look at me,” he whispered, his words tinged with shame. “Spencer just stares when he thinks I’m not looking, like he’s trying to figure out what to do with me like I’m some wounded wild animal he found in the woods. They won’t even  _ speak _ to me hardly.”

“They just don’t know how to behave right now, Ry, they’ll get over it. It’ll go back to normal. It  _ will _ ,” he insisted, when Ryan started to shake his head. “Ry, you were  _ hurt _ . When we found you…” He struggled to keep his voice even. “I think my heart stopped, Ry, I didn’t know what to do, I couldn’t even tell if you were breathing at first, we were all so scared… god, I’m just so glad you’re okay.” His voice finally broke on that last phrase.

“Bren…” Ryan wrapped his arms around Brendon’s waist, burying his face in the crook of Brendon’s neck. Brendon held him close, remaining silent for several long seconds as he composed himself.

“My point,” he continued finally, “is that they know you went through something and you’re dealing with it. No one wants to make you feel worse or uncomfortable but they haven’t figured out yet which is why they’re acting so weird. Okay?” He felt Ryan nod against his shoulder. “Okay. How about we go rejoin the others now?”

“Are all the other bands out of our green room yet?” Ryan mumbled, voice muffled against Brendon’s shirt.

Brendon chuckled, looking over Ryan’s shoulder to check his watch. “Well, it’s almost time for the first set, so probably.” He planted a soft kiss against Ryan’s temple. “Come on, we can go watch Jon and Spencer play a stupid video game or whatever they’re up to.” He grabbed Ryan’s hand and pulled him toward the door. Surprisingly, Ryan didn’t grab his hand back as they made their way back down the hall, even when a couple of techs walked past. Brendon tried to keep his glee over this unexpected semi-public display of affection to a minimum, considering the circumstances, but couldn’t stop the corners of his mouth from turning upward in response.

Spencer and Jon’s heads both snapped up as soon as they walked back in. Brendon felt Ryan flinch in response to the poorly-hidden alarm that painted both of their faces and gave his fingers a reassuring squeeze. “Hey, what are you guys up to?” he asked breezily, shutting the door behind them.

Jon glanced at Spencer, who quickly replied, “Uh, nothing, we were just about to see what games they had. For, uh, the wii,” he added lamely, as if they couldn’t all see the console box sitting beneath the TV in front of them.

“Cool.” Brendon flopped down on the couch, leaving ample space for Ryan, who quickly sat down beside him and pulled his knees up to his chest. Spencer raised his eyebrows at Brendon as Jon scrambled to flip through the box of games. Brendon just raised his own in response. Spencer sighed and looked away, just in time to catch the game Jon was throwing his way.

“No, I hate this one,” Spencer groaned when he saw the cover.

“That’s just because you suck at it,” Brendon said. He couldn’t see the game from where he was sitting and had no idea what it even was; he just wanted to contribute to the distraction he was trying to create.

It worked. Spencer groaned again and shoved the case back in Jon’s direction with an exaggerated sigh. “Fine, put it in and give me a remote.”

Brendon hid his smirk and shifted weight, feeling Ryan settle against him, chin resting on Brendon’s shoulder. Things would be back to normal in no time. He would make sure of it.


	10. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ohmygod hiiiiii what's uuuuuup it's meeeee with a chapterrrrr
> 
> it's new years so i'm a lil drunk and i didn't proofread nearly enough to be posting this but for rn das fine who cares!!! i also didn't cut the chapter where i thought i ought to when i started writing it but that's fine too whateeeeeevs
> 
> anyways ya sorry for bein an annoying tipsy bitch i hope you are all having a good 2018 so far now that the end of an arbitrary set of 365 days has come to a close for us to all mark a random new beginning to our lives!! so uhh ya if ur hopeful and positive and all that happy new beginnings and if ur cynical and kinda blegh like me about new years then happy monday instead lol
> 
> okay anyways so. the chapter. i can't tell if it's boring or not because it has a lot of emotions and i am incredibly emotionally invested in these lil nugs and all their emotions so for me just going through all the EMOTIONS in this chapter was like. a frickin roller coaster man. but ya i know the last chapter was really just all emotional stuff too SO here's the thing there's gonna be some wild shit in uhh probably two chapters from now but then again it seems i can't plan chapter cuts to save my life so it might even be the next one WHO KNOWS??? and i'm going on a trip tomorrow for like a week but if i don't do any writing during that i'll def get started on the next chapter when i get back and get it posted more ~promptly~ than i have the last few updates heh
> 
> oh my god i've gone on forever SORRY okay that's all bye LOVE YOU

Ryan could already feel the intensity of the crowd even through the curtains and stacks of amps and equipment separating himself from them. He closed his eyes, breathing out slowly through his nose and trying to focus on the loud thrum of his own heartbeat in his skull rather than the sporadic shrieks and shouts around him. He jumped at the weight of a hand on his shoulder and turned to see Brendon holding Ryan’s guitar, the strap of his own already slung over his shoulders.

“Hey.” His hand traveled down to Ryan’s, giving his fingers a furtive squeeze. “Ready?”

Ryan nodded, taking his guitar and pulling the strap over his head. He followed Brendon onstage, immediately hearing the screams that swept through the venue as their silhouettes became visible through the thin sheet dividing the stage from the crowd. He glanced over his shoulder, making brief eye contact with Spencer, then Jon, and finally Brendon, all of them giving a quick nod to indicate they were ready to go.

He started  _ We’re So Starving _ , playing the first riffs perfectly. He watched Brendon take a breath, lean in toward the mic, begin to sing. He closed his eyes, felt the artificial breeze on his face from the curtain dropping in front of them, heard the people, so many people. He managed to dip toward his own mic in time to harmonize with Brendon on the second line.

He tried not to look out at the crowd, instead watching his hands move back and forth between chords and sneaking glances in Brendon’s direction. The lead singer was lit up like a sky full of fireworks, lips stretched into as wide of a grin as they could form, pulling faces at random people in the crowd whenever eye contact was made. Brendon was always happiest performing, in spite of how anxious he would sometimes get before shows or before a long tour would start.

Ryan felt his stomach twist, almost missing a note when he realized there had been none of that in the weeks leading up to this tour, not even right before they had gone on stage tonight. Brendon had kept it perfectly together the whole time, even before Ryan had come clean to him about Liam. Ryan could only assume that this had been for his benefit and the knot in his gut grew larger as he wondered whether Brendon had wanted before tonight’s show to wring his hands backstage, bounce around muttering to himself, beg insistently for his bandmates to play random songs from the setlist with him backstage all the way up until the moment they went onstage to settle his nerves.

He nearly missed the end of the song, shaking himself mentally as he remembered just in time to let the chord ring instead of continuing to strum. He looked up, heart now racing from the mistake he’d almost made, not even an entire song into the set. Brendon caught his eye, face still alight with adrenaline and joy, just behind it the hidden concern, the need to make sure Ryan was doing okay. Ryan released the breath he’d been subconsciously keeping locked in his chest, feeling some of the tension leave his body. They transitioned into  _ Nine in the Afternoon _ and his hands moved in muscle-memory-guided motions.  _ You’re okay. You’re all right. You’re fine. Stop thinking so much. Just play. _ He go of let the remaining tightness in his body and focused on the music, the words cascading from Brendon’s mouth, the harmonies that he leaned toward the mic to join.

Then the song was over and Brendon was laughing and Spencer was counting into  _ But It’s Better If You Do _ and the crowd was losing their minds and Ryan -- Ryan was smiling.

And then, quite all of the sudden it seemed, it was his turn to sing, and he was being discussed into the microphones and people were very loudly screaming  _ his _ name and he felt his chest tightening up again. He looked at Brendon, who was giving the slightest of nods back at him, nothing but encouragement in his expression. So he sang it, his song, for the first time in front of anyone other than his bandmates and producers and studio techs, and for just a few minutes that nagging voice in his head stopped reminding him of the scratchiness in his tone, stopped focusing on whether or not he was hitting every single note just right, and he just sang his song. And it was fine.

_ Lying _ was next. Somehow Ryan was now more nervous than he’d been for  _ Behind the Sea _ , suddenly finding himself trying to force images of Liam’s disapproving frown out of his head. He flashed back to the last time they’d played  _ Lying _ in front of an audience, turning around to find Liam glaring at Brendon when the song was over. Liam’s questions, the underhanded accusations, hands on Ryan, hands on Ryan’s clothes, shirt coming off pants coming off and hands, hands…

He felt something touch his shoulder and he jumped, fingers fumbling to stay on the right notes as he jerked his head up. It was Brendon, mic in his left hand, the right sliding suggestively down Ryan’s arm, guitar abandoned and slung around onto his back.

“You know it will always just be me--” Brendon pointed his mic in Ryan’s direction and he realized  _ shit _ , his turn to sing, and he managed just in time to spit the words out before Brendon pulled the mic back. Brendon’s mouth moved to form the words of the chorus but his eyes were on Ryan’s face, silently asking if he was okay. His fingers swept through Ryan’s hair in a motion meant to look overtly sexual, but Ryan knew Brendon was over here to check on him, neglecting his own guitar part to come to Ryan’s side of the stage as soon as he noticed the strained expression on Ryan’s face, the far-off glint in his eyes.

Ryan gave a short and hopefully surreptitious nod, focusing on the feeling of Brendon’s hand, now on his chest, until his mind was completely removed from the nightmare that had been playing like a movie behind his eyes. After one more long look at Ryan’s face Brendon half-stepped, half-danced back to center stage, shoving the mic back onto the stand and fumbling behind him for his guitar. “So I guess we’re back to us, oh cameraman, swing the focus--”

The song couldn’t end fast enough for Ryan, even after Brendon’s gesture had pulled him back from inside his own head. It was a shame, really.  _ Lying _ used to be one of his favorite songs to play live.

“ _ I love you, Ryan! _ ” Someone in the audience screamed, in the lull between the music dying down and the crowd’s last cheer. Ryan stiffened, hearing the immediate domino-effect reaction from others in the crowd, who were now all suddenly shouting things at him and him alone, mostly just his name, until--

“ _ Fuck me Ryan Ross!” _

His chest was suddenly the tightest it had been all night and he didn’t even know why. He felt Brendon’s eyes on him, watching for reaction, but he couldn’t seem to do anything except stand there while the blood drained from his face.

“Hey, whoa, you guys,” he heard Brendon say into the microphone. “Weren’t you listening just now? Ryan’s mine, back off!”

Spencer hit his cymbals a few times so the statement would pass as a joke, while their audience reacted the only way they ever seemed to know how -- by screaming. Ryan felt some of the warmth return to his body and turned away, reaching for the water bottle he’d left at the foot of Spencer’s drum pedestal. As he tossed back a large mouthful of water Spencer caught his eye, ducked down a bit so no one could see him, and mouthed “you okay?” at Ryan.

Ryan flushed. He gave a nod and turned back around, trying to regain his composure before everyone saw him lose it even more than he already had that night.

The rest of the set went on without major issue. By the time he began to play the first notes of  _ Northern Downpour _ Ryan felt as though he’d been running a marathon and could finally see the finish line. Brendon looked over at him just before he started singing and Ryan felt a jolt of warmth pass through him. Fuck, he was so tired of having all these eyes on him, all these people watching. He just wanted to be curled up next to Brendon with no one else in the world around.

They all made their way offstage for the show’s fake ending. Brendon’s hand found Ryan’s in the darkness and gave it a gentle squeeze.

“You’re doing so good,” he whispered into Ryan’s ear. “Almost done now.”

Ryan just nodded, savoring Brendon’s closeness and the calmness of the moment while they listened to the crowd scream “Panic! Panic!” and “one more song!”. Brendon finally slipped his fingers from Ryan’s.

“See you in a few,” Brendon whispered with a wink. He walked back onstage in long strides, waving to the crowd as they cheered. Ryan watched as he played  _ Time to Dance _ solo, ignoring with some discomfort the glances of concern and questioning he felt being cast his way by Spencer and Jon.

The last two songs passed in a quick blur. Ryan felt a rush of relief as the last “reinvent love” left his lips and  _ Mad as Rabbits _ came to an end and they were finally able to tell the audience “thank you, goodnight” and exit the stage for good this time.

Ryan remained in tired haze for the next hour or so, basically just trailing along after Brendon until they were finally in the lobby of their hotel for the night. Ryan was so grateful that the first night on tour was a hotel night and not a bus night. He knew those were coming and did not look forward in the slightest to trying to sleep stuffed into a bunk while the bus rumbled and rolled beneath him.

“I managed to get a later checkout,” Zack was saying as he passed the room keys around. “Just be down here by noon tomorrow. Sleep while you can. We don’t have any interviews or radio stations or anything scheduled for tomorrow but after that we’ve got quite a few early mornings.”

_ Fuck _ . If there was anything Ryan disliked more than interviews it was interviews that happened before noon. He took the room key Brendon slipped him and shoved it deep inside his front pocket. There was little chance he’d be leaving the room anyway once they shut themselves inside. He followed Brendon toward the elevator, glancing several times over each shoulder before they got on. He couldn’t shake the paranoid thought that as soon as he let his guard down Liam would somehow be there, just waiting to take advantage.

Everyone else must have decided to wait for another ride upstairs, because when the elevator doors closed only Brendon and Ryan stood inside. Ryan slid his hand back into Brendon’s, trying to ignore the stinging feeling that no one but Brendon knew how to be around him anymore.

He looked both ways down the hallway while Brendon fumbled with the room key, then immediately once they were inside opened the doors to the closet and bathroom and peered within. Brendon watched without comment, letting the door swing shut behind him before turning the padlock and latching the security guard at the top of the frame.

“You were great tonight,” he said, once Ryan had finally stopped pacing the room and had perched on the edge of one of the double beds.

Ryan stared down at the floor, picking at a loose thread on the comforter. “I messed up. A lot.”

“What?” Brendon sat next to him. “When?”

Ryan frowned. “I… I missed parts,  _ Starving _ and  _ Nine _ \--”

“You didn’t mess up on those songs,” Brendon interrupted, his voice insistent. He grabbed Ryan’s hands, folded in a tight, anxious clasp, between both of his own. “I didn’t hear anything go wrong. Promise.”

Ryan chewed his lower lip, unsure of whether he believed that or not. “I messed up  _ Lying _ for sure.”

Brendon hesitated. “You missed a couple of chords,” he conceded.

Ryan scoffed. “A couple. Right.”

“Yes, a couple.” Brendon managed to pry Ryan’s hands apart, intertwining them with each of his own instead. “That’s when I looked over and realized something was… wrong.” Ryan’s face had begun to flush. He kept his gaze turned toward the floor as he felt Brendon looking at him, trying to figure out what was going on behind his tight expression. “Ry, is… is what I did okay? I didn’t know what else to do in the moment, I know you said you didn’t want to do that during  _ Lying _ anymore and I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable but I--”

“No, no, god, no. It wasn’t… that was… I only said that because of…”

“Liam?” Brendon supplied softly, when Ryan didn’t continue. “Okay.” He was quiet for a few seconds, trying to figure out whether to give voice to the question behind his lips. “Ry, did something… I mean is there… are you associating  _ Lying _ with something… specific?”

Ryan’s stomach clenched. He pulled his hands back out of Brendon’s, rubbing them up and down the front of his jeans nervously. “It’s stupid,” he muttered, still avoiding Brendon’s gaze.

“You can tell me,” Brendon said. “If you want to.”

“I didn’t even think about it being a problem,” Ryan said quietly. He pulled his knees up to his chest, which was starting to feel uncomfortably tight once again. “When he came. To the LA show. I… I looked over after  _ Lying _ and there was this look on his face…”

Brendon’s jaw clenched. He remembered seeing that look, too. And  _ fuck _ , he just let them leave together that night like there wasn’t a nagging little voice inside of him telling him not to.

Ryan had paused, his lips slightly parted and trembling with the words they were trying to form. “I don’t want you to think that… that I’m…”

“Was that the night that… the bruise?”

Ryan gave a sharp, biting laugh. “Nope, no I… I already had that. Yep.” He laughed again, an eerie, mirthless sound that made Brendon’s stomach churn. “Pushed me into the fucking kitchen counter because I made him angry and I was still dumb enough to…” He rubbed his hands over his face. “No,  _ that _ night I let him convince me to sleep with him for the f-first…” As quickly as it had appeared Ryan’s cynical facade crumbled, dissolving into tears.

“Ry…” Brendon reached for him but Ryan jumped up, hugging his arms to his chest and pacing to the other side of the room.

“I could’ve just said no, I really could have, and I… He twisted it, he said… if I wanted to prove I wanted to be with him and not… I didn’t want him to get angry but I didn’t… I didn’t want…” He paused, trying to take a breath. He felt like he could barely draw air into his lungs. “I just… onstage I kept thinking… it was like I could feel his  _ hands _ \--” He covered his eyes with one hand while a single sob slipped from between his lips.

Brendon had stood by this point, once more extending his arms and reaching for Ryan’s shaking form. “Hey, come here. Come here.”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Ryan whimpered under his breath, flinching even as he allowed Brendon’s arms to wrap around him.

“Shh. You don’t have to be sorry.”

“I could have said no, I could have just said no, why didn’t I just… maybe he wouldn’t have…”

“Stop,” Brendon murmured, his voice quiet but firm. “You have no way of knowing how things would have worked out if you’d done anything differently.”

“I’m sorry,” Ryan said again. “Fuck, I’m such a mess…”

“No, no.” Brendon hugged Ryan closer, fingers combing through his hair as Ryan rested his forehead against Brendon’s shoulder. “You’ve been letting all of this just eat away at you, it’s okay to let it out now. You’re going to drive yourself crazy thinking everything that happened is your fault. I would rather you tell me about it than you keeping it all bottled up.”

Ryan sniffed. “I don’t want you to have to always keep it together just because I never can.”

Brendon’s eyebrows furrowed. “What do you mean?”

“I know that you’re trying to… to always be calm and say the right thing and be strong or together or whatever because of me, and I don’t want you to have to do that just because I’m such a goddamn mess.”

“I…” Brendon sighed. “Okay. Fair enough. But hey. You worry about yourself for now, okay? Don’t worry about me. I’m gonna be fine going a few days without flipping cartwheels down the hall or being a pest to everyone to take my mind off of some stage nerves that aren’t even that bad to begin with.” He rubbed his hand in small, soothing circles along Ryan’s back. “And you know I’m never going to judge you or think less of you for anything that happened with… with him. Regardless of whose thought you think it was. Okay?” He hesitated for a moment. “Do we need to remove  _ Lying _ from the setlist? Because we can. I don’t want you to have to go through that every night.”

Ryan was quiet for a moment. “I don’t want to take it out,” he said finally. “Everyone likes it, I mean fuck,  _ I _ used to like playing that one most, and… I don’t want to deal with people asking why we took it off, either…”

“Whether or not you’re comfortable on stage every night is more important than any of that.”

“I can do it.” Ryan tried to muster as much confidence as he could into his voice. “I’ll be fine.”

Brendon sighed again, but decided to let it go. “He can’t hurt you anymore, you know,” he said instead. “I know it’s going to take getting used to and you might have a hard time not thinking about what happened, especially if those thoughts get triggered by something else, but… you’re safe now. I’m gonna keep you safe now.”

Ryan didn’t respond. Brendon waited until his shaking had somewhat subsided before gently guiding him back toward the bed. “Come on, you heard Zack. Let’s get some sleep while we still can.”

Ryan just nodded, exhausted now both from playing the show and his emotional outburst. He stripped down to just his boxers and undershirt and tucked himself beneath the covers of one of the beds, watching with heavy-lidded eyes while Brendon readied his own self for sleep. 

“Bren?” he whispered, as Brendon moved to turn out the light.

“Yeah, Ry.”

“Stay with me?”

A small smile was visible upon Brendon’s lips for a split second before the lights were doused. Ryan felt the mattress dip to one side, the covers lifting to allow Brendon to slip in beneath them. He let Ryan nestle in close to his chest before wrapping his arms around the other boy’s shoulders and planting a soft kiss on Ryan’s brow.

“Always.”


	11. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> omg hiiii everyone!! hello!!! sorry I was gone for a little bit longer than I meant to be, been going through a lot of depressive bullshit and extreme difficulty doing anything productive... what else is new, lol. anyway though, I woke up today and I was like damn you know what I'm gonna finish that chapter TODAY god dammit and eyyy look at that, I did! and man, the next few chapters are so vividly planned out in my head right now, I really hope I can keep at least a little of this momentum up for the next few weeks and get them hammered out!
> 
> also omg while 2018 has been pretty shitty so far because let's face it, January is just a shitty month, the music so far has been amaaaazing, idk if any of ya'll listen to Waterparks but Entertainment might be my new favorite album of all time?? and then MANIA was great as well of COURSE. and obviously I know we're all keeping our eye out for a new PATD album to blow us out of the water at some point this year (PLEASE BRENDON PLEASE!!!???!!!)
> 
> anyway enough rambling. here's some more emotions love you all xoxoxo

It was two in the morning and Ryan was wide awake.

He had tried to fall asleep for the first couple of hours, he really had. He wasn’t, however, used to sleeping with vehicle movement beneath him anymore, and every time he forced his eyes shut his chest would tighten  _ so much _ and his heart would race and he swore he could feel the ceiling and sides of his bunk closing in on him in the darkness.

He tried lying there with his eyes open for awhile, not that he could see all that much, and placing his hands on the ceiling, on the walls beside and behind him. He felt ridiculous, trying to convince himself that no, the walls were  _ not _ closing in on him and were very much staying in place as they ought to. He tried opening the curtain to his bunk but even that didn’t help, plus he worried that someone would get up to use the bathroom at some point and see him lying there with his hands feverishly planted against his bunk walls like they were about to cave in.

He’d already woken everyone up the night before. He remembered with burning guilt, pulling his arms and legs in toward his chest and curling up on his side. He’d jolted awake with his mouth stretched wide in a scream, the feeling of hands gripping each of his shoulders. It had taken him several long seconds to realize it was Brendon holding him, gently shaking in an attempt to wake him, and even then it felt like he was stuck still inside of the nightmare. He could see the walls closing in on him, could feel the hands all over him, feel himself suffocating, crying, struggling to breathe, even as Brendon’s hands cupped the sides of his face, as Brendon murmured his name in soft tones. Then came the knocking on the door.

“Brendon? Ryan? What’s going on in there?” It was Zack.

“Fine, we’re fine,” Brendon had called back.

There’d been a pause. “Okay… can you come to the door though?”

Brendon had looked at him, and Ryan just nodded, still trying to catch his breath. Brendon slid off the bed and cracked open the door. Ryan heard him him speaking in low tones with Zack. When he stole a glance toward the door he caught a glimpse of Spencer and Jon lingering in the hallway behind Zack, bleary-eyed and wearing pinched, worried expressions on their faces.

“I’m sorry,” Ryan had whispered, over and over as Brendon crawled back into bed, even as Brendon had pulled him close, quietly shushing him as Ryan cried the last of his tears into Brendon’s chest.

He couldn’t even look at Spencer and Jon the next day, as they all met in the lobby to leave the hotel. He didn’t want to see the dark circles under their eyes, the pity on their faces when they looked back at him. He didn’t want to think about how they’d felt waking up to his terrified screams, stumbling out of bed and running down the hallway, how long they had probably laid awake afterward.

Once was more than enough for that. He couldn’t bear to put everyone through the same thing night after night. Maybe that was one of the reasons his eyes flew back open every time they closed, why his breaths kept catching in his throat as soon as they had begun to even out. If he fell asleep here, now, in this tiny space that was feeling more and more like a coffin with every passing moment he spent inside, the nightmares were inevitable. They’d come for him the minute he let his consciousness go.

With slow, careful movements he slid out of the bunk and crept to the end of the sleeping quarters, ears honed in on the sound of everyone’s slow, steady breathing behind their own closed curtains. Making hardly a sound he opened the thin door that divided the back “room” from the rest of the bus and closed it again behind him. The lights were still up, on their dimmest setting, and he blinked to let his eyes adjust before sinking down onto the wraparound couch.

He perched his feet on the edge of the cushion, hugging his knees to his chest and staring out the window. He wasn’t sure exactly where they were at the moment; somewhere rural, for sure, since all he could make out in the dark was the faint outline of foliage and other cars. He felt a pang of discomfort for a moment thinking about the people in those cars glancing up and seeing him sitting here, then remembered how heavily the windows were tinted -- duh -- and relaxed, resting his chin on the back of the couch and listening to the dull rumble of the bus engine beneath him.

A decent number of minutes passed and Ryan had just about zoned out, lulled by the steady tones of the road and rhythm of the trees and lights passing by outside. He still, however, heard the telltale click of the door behind him being pushed shut. He jumped, suddenly on high alert, his gaze darting toward the direction of the sound.

“Sorry. Didn’t mean to startle you.” It was Jon. He stood awkwardly next to the door, hands tucked into the pockets of his pajama bottoms.

“Oh, no, I um…” Ryan’s hands slid over his kneecaps as he fumbled for words. “Did I wake you up? I’m sorry...” There was that sharp, stabbing guilt again, intensifying when he saw how dark the half-moons of skin beneath Jon’s eyes had become. Fuck, even when he tried his hardest, he still couldn’t stop fucking up.

But Jon was shaking his head. “No, no. I was awake. I mean, I heard you open the door. I was already up though.”

Ryan couldn’t tell if he was lying or not. Even if he was, though, it wasn’t like Ryan was about to call him out on it, so he just nodded, staring absently down at the floor. Jon hesitated for a moment longer, then stepped toward where Ryan sat on the couch. The pause he took before sitting down was too long. Ryan knew he was trying to gage Ryan’s reaction, waiting for any signs of discomfort in Ryan’s body language to signal that Ryan might not want Jon there. It bothered him, made him cringe a bit on the inside, but he pretended not to notice as Jon eased into a seated position to his right.

It wasn’t Jon’s fault, after all. Despite what he’d said to Brendon about wishing things could go back to “normal”, Ryan was definitely  _ not _ doing his part in making that happen. He literally hadn’t let another human being aside from Brendon Urie lay a hand on him since the beginning of tour. Jon had tried to high-five him after soundcheck earlier that day and Ryan had ducked -- literally  _ ducked _ \-- as if Jon were about to slap him across the face. Just before that they’d just been discussing back and forth across the stage how everything sounded. Easy, normal soundcheck conversation. Just like the old days. Almost like nothing had ever even happened to Ryan. It wasn’t Jon’s fault. He couldn’t have known. And now Ryan couldn’t stop picturing the horrified expression that had appeared on his friend’s face when he realized what he had done wrong, even though it had disappeared in seconds as Jon lowered his hand and gracefully pretended that nothing had happened, while Ryan, flushed and embarrassed, struggled to gather himself and do the same.

Then there was that moment  _ after _ the show, when Spencer was happily handing out hugs like candy and had moved toward Ryan with his arms outstretched, not really thinking about what he was doing. Ryan had instinctively taken five steps backward, his breath catching in his throat. Spencer had immediately just turned to someone else, Ryan wasn’t even sure who, and given them a hug instead. He didn’t say anything about it or really even react at all. Ryan knew he’d hurt Spencer’s feelings, though. He hated himself for it.

Jon shifted weight beside him and he realized, snapping out of his thoughts, that neither of them had said a single word for several long moments now. He was trying to think of something he could say to break the stiff silence when the door creaked open yet again. His eyes flicked up to meet the gaze of a messy-haired Spencer, who, like Jon, also looked like he hadn’t really slept in a couple of days, and there was that guilt again, churning in the pit of Ryan’s stomach.

“Hey, Spence,” Jon said, when Ryan’s lips still failed to form anything coherent.

“Hey guys.” Spencer’s lips twitched behind his facial hair. “Can I join the party?”

Ryan tried to smile in response to the light tone of his friend’s voice, nodding as well just in case the gesture fell flat. There was just enough room on Ryan’s left side for Spencer to sit down without any part of his body making contact with Ryan’s. Ryan could sense him measuring the space with his eyes before folding his body into it, making sure. He now felt the sofa dipping down on either side of him, felt the closeness of his two friends while they all sat there together, pretending to be relaxed while holding just enough tension in their bodies so no one accidentally touched Ryan, so no one accidentally upset Ryan, so no one accidentally sent Ryan into a spiral that they might actually have to discuss instead of brush off this time.

“So.” Spencer cleared his throat. “What’s up, guys?”

“Oh, just… you know.” Jon’s words were so glib that Ryan nearly cringed. “Hanging out.”

Spencer nodded a couple of times. “Ah.”

There was a brief pause. Ryan cleared his throat. “Actually... I came in here because I can’t really sleep in a bunk anymore because I can’t really handle closed-in spaces anymore and I didn’t want to risk trying anyway and wake up screaming and interrupting everyone else’s sleep. So.”

He could feel the silent, stunned reactions on either side of him. He folded his hands together tightly over his kneecaps, chewing on his bottom lip and staring across the room.

“Um.” Jon finally broke the silence, starting to speak and then stopping several times before being able to form the words: “Is that… because…”

He didn’t seem to be able to finish the thought. Ryan swallowed, hard, already regretting opening his mouth in the first place, but continued for him anyway. “Because I was locked in a cage meant for dogs for almost twenty-four hours? Yeah. Probably.” He felt Spencer’s sharp intake of breath in response to his words. “It’s… it’s okay to ask about it, talk about it. God knows we’re all constantly thinking about it anyway, I know you’re all losing sleep over it even when I’m  _ not _ keeping everyone awake screaming my guts out, which makes sense considering--”

“Ryan. Ry. Hey.” Spencer interrupted him, almost forcibly, and Ryan sucked in a breath, realizing he didn’t have any air at all in his lungs even though he was still trying to talk, trying to frantically spill all of the thoughts swimming around his brain into the air around him before he was no longer able. He forced himself to breathe normally again and sat back, staring down at his hands, still twisted together in his lap. He could practically hear Spencer and Jon scrambling internally to figure out how to respond, trying to think of what they were allowed to say without setting him off again. He hated that telltale silence, the painstaking caution it was laced with.

“I think we just didn’t want to make you feel like you had to talk about it,” Spencer said at last. “Like… ‘hey, remember that really shitty thing that just happened to you, let’s talk about it’, you know. I don’t… I don’t know.”

“To be honest… I figured you didn’t want to talk to anyone besides Brendon about it.” Jon paused, hesitant. “You just kind of have your guard up for everyone else.”

Ryan flinched. Ouch. He wasn’t wrong, though.

“There’s nothing wrong with that,” Jon scrambled to add, noticing Ryan’s response. “We’re just… well…” He saw them exchange glances over his head from his peripheral vision. “We’re not really sure how to handle it, you know, we just don’t want to upset you, is all.”

Ryan ran his tongue over his dry lips. “I know,” he murmured. “I just… It kind of sucks. Everyone’s just kind of… acting like I’m about to shatter into pieces, or just pretending I’m not there at all because they don’t know how to treat me, and it’s… I mean, I know I’m acting like kind of a freak too, but--”

“You’re not--”

“Yeah, I am.” He cut Spencer off before he had a chance to be told  _ oh, no, Ryan, you’re acting perfectly normal, being a complete spazz all of the time is perfectly normal, you haven’t done anything wrong _ . “You don’t have to pretend like I don’t flip out whenever anyone tries to touch me, or that I didn’t wake up half of a hotel screaming in the middle of the night. I mean, I’m… I get it, I probably wouldn’t treat me just like any other person either--”

“Hey. Stop. Okay?” Spencer lifted his hand, almost placed it on top of Ryan’s shoulder, then caught himself with his fingers poised in midair over Ryan’s arm. “Oh, uh…”

“It’s okay,” Ryan whispered, eyes boring holes in the floor so he wouldn’t have to see the look on his friend’s face. He felt the weight of Spencer’s palm settle on the outside of his arm, a shock of discomfort stabbing at his chest for just one brief moment before the warmth of his friend’s fingers seeped through the thin fabric of his t-shirt, and with it a familiar, almost ancient sense of comfort. This was  _ Spencer _ , best-friend-since-preschool Spencer. Spencer would never hurt him. He knew that.  _ Of course _ he knew that.

“I’m really sorry if we made you feel worse, Ryan,” Spencer said quietly. 

Ryan squeezed his eyes shut, trying to hold back the tears springing up behind them. “ _ I’m _ sorry,” he countered, words almost too quiet to be heard. “No one can sleep because of me, everyone’s just trying to look after me and I’m complaining about how I’m not being treated exactly right when it’s  _ my fault _ in the first place--”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa.” Jon leaned forward. “Wait, who said anything was your fault? What are you talking about?”

Ryan sucked in a deep, shaky breath. “No, I know, Brendon told me it wasn’t and I should stop saying that, I just… this  _ is _ all happening because of me and then I insisted we still go on tour but obviously that means everyone has to worry about me all tour and go half-crazy doing it so I just feel… guilty.” He clenched his jaw, rubbing his hands over his face.

He could sense Spencer and Jon looking at one another again, wondering what to say. “I’m pretty sure everyone understands that you didn’t  _ want _ any of this to happen,” Spencer said carefully. “How were you supposed to know that… You didn’t ask for…”

“Say it,” Ryan whispered. “You can say it, just say it.”

“Uh… okay.” Spencer cleared his throat a couple of times. “Okay. You didn’t go out and try to find an abusive boyfriend. You didn’t ask for what he did to you the other day. Or anything else he did that Jon and I don’t know about.” He winced at the feeling of Ryan tensing up beneath him at his words. “You didn’t ask to be… traumatized. And we obviously know you weren’t trying to go and have all of us traumatized, too. So really… this could never have been your fault.  _ None _ of us think that.”

Ryan was crying a little behind his hands at that point, but he nodded, unable to form the words to respond. Spencer’s hand moved from Ryan’s shoulder to his back, sliding up and down a few inches at a time in slow, soothing motions. He used to do the same thing when they were both in high school, every time Ryan came over to get away from his father. Ryan would act all stiff and nonchalant until Spencer wore him down, then he would sink down on Spencer’s bed and hold his head in his hands and Spencer would rub his back until he stopped crying or shaking or whatever. Then they would play music or video games and never speak of it.

He was pretty sure that back then Spencer couldn’t feel his spine and ribcage poking out so profoundly through his clothing like they were doing now, but if the same thought occurred to Spencer, he didn’t mention it.

They sat there for awhile longer, until Ryan heard amidst the quiet around them the sound of Jon stifling a yawn. He sat up then, finally casting a short glance toward each of his friends. “You guys should go to bed. It’s late, you’re tired.”

“We can stay in here with you,” Spencer offered. “You don’t have to stay in here alone all night.”

Ryan shook his head. “No. That’s okay, I’m fine.”

“Or we can get Brendon?” Jon suggested, simultaneously looking uncertain, like this perhaps wasn’t an appropriate thing to ask.

Ryan flushed, ducking his head. “No, um…” He cleared his throat. “Brendon already deals with so much from me right now and he always keeps it together for me and… I just don’t want to go waking him up and bothering him for the thousandth time. He should get to sleep at least for one night.”

Jon and Spencer both hesitated again, and Ryan was able to muster a small, hopefully reassuring smile. “It’s okay. Really. Go to bed. I’m fine.”

“All right.” Spencer stood up and stretched, while Jon slowly rose to his feet as well, stifling another yawn. “Goodnight.”

“‘Night.”

“Do you want the lights off?”

Ryan nodded, knowing he had to face sleep at some point. Spencer’s fingers hovered above the light switch and he paused, looking back at Ryan. “If you do have another… bad dream, or anything… no one will be mad.”

Ryan bit his lip and just nodded in response. The light faded from the room with a flick of Spencer’s fingers and Ryan heard the shuffle of his friends’ feet as they slipped out and closed the door softly behind them. He laid down, turning himself over a few times trying to find a comfortable position on the couch. He finally just curled up with his legs pulled into his stomach and his arms crossed over his chest.  _ It’s okay. You’re okay. Just sleep. Nothing bad will happen. Just go to sleep. _

He had just about drifted into a light, uneasy slumber when he heard another  _ click _ and saw a shadow move across the floor. His head popped up, chest tightening out of instinct, eyes struggling to see through the dark.

“It’s just me,” came a soft whisper as the door clicked shut again, and Ryan exhaled, reaching out with one hand until he felt Brendon’s fingers slide between his own.

Brendon crouched down next to the couch, Ryan’s eyes adjusted to the dark just enough to make out the faint outline of his face, the stray strands of hair falling across it. “Can I join you?”

“Yeah,” Ryan whispered back. He shifted as much as he could to one side of the couch and waited for Brendon to lie down beside him. He felt the soft weight of a blanket being draped over his legs, then Brendon murmured “here, lift your head for a sec” and a pillow slid into place beneath it. Brendon eased onto the edge of the couch, arranging his legs next to Ryan’s first before sliding one arm beneath Ryan’s shoulders and using his free hand to pull the blanket up to both of their chests. Ryan felt a burning warmth spread through him, not only from the addition of the blanket and Brendon’s body heat to where he laid, but from the realization of just how in tune Brendon really was to how Ryan was feeling at, or so it seemed, any given moment.

“Were you awake the whole time?” Ryan asked, as Brendon finished settling in next to him.

“Maybe.”

Ryan was quiet for a moment, wondering how much Brendon had overheard. “Did you… were you…”

“Shh.” Brendon pressed his lips to Ryan’s forehead. “It’s okay. Get some sleep.”

Ryan exhaled, relaxing against the rise and fall of Brendon’s chest. All was silent for a moment save for the sounds of the bus beneath them and their breathing as it slowed. Then--

“Bren?”

“Hmm?”

Ryan’s fingers found Brendon’s again in the dark. He wrapped his hand around Brendon’s, holding it to his chest. “I love you, too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ikr (◠‿◠✿)


	12. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> whooooooaaaa whaaaaat she's back already with ANOTHER chapter no waaaaaay
> 
> yep yep, so I'm actually going to be trying to finish this story a little faster now if I can manage to fend off any more major depressive episodes that come a-callin' (lmao) because trying to be productive as much as I can manage feels waaaay better than vegging out watching TV shows I've seen 10 times already / sleeping too much. aaand I know this, so I'm gonna try to keep the momentum going. that being said I know I've also definitely said that in the past and then totally dropped the ball and disappeared for like a month, so take everything I say with a grain of salt obviously lol. but also I do want to try to start on this other idea I've had for awhile for like an original story (a novel?? I'm almost scared to admit that I want to write a novel because at this rate that would take me a billion years lmao but yeah) and it's basically impossible for me to focus on writing two different things at once.
> 
> anyways YEAH I'm rambling again as I tend to do, soooorryyy. also writing this chapter made me real happy and then real upset and now I'm highkey ready 4 death so... trigger warning for uh, without giving too much away, SOME SHITTY STUFF. sorry ahaha I suck anyway WITHOUT FURTHER ADO

Over the next month and a half, Ryan slowly but surely felt himself getting better.

He was still likely to flinch or shy away if someone suddenly moved to touch him, but he found himself more and more able to do things like accept a high-five, or a pat on the shoulder or back from Spencer or Jon. He didn’t jump as often when someone slammed a door or dropped a heavy object. Throughout the days he found himself speaking up more often, actually participating in interviews again (though his general disdain for them hadn’t really changed), smiling, even laughing. He stopped freezing up onstage, was even, at certain moments, comfortable enough to participate in the stage banter being thrown back and forth around him. He was less anxious throughout the day, and was actually able, to Brendon’s immense relief, to start consuming a healthy amount of food again.

He still had the nightmares. They stopped coming for him every single night, but they still came. He had one more wake-up-screaming experience, this time on the bus. Spencer had been the one to come check this time, poking his head of sleep-tousled hair inside the back room, where Brendon and Ryan had both taken to sleeping on bus nights. He’d turned the lights up just enough for them to all see each other, to exchange a glance and a nod with Brendon and silently confirm to himself that Ryan was okay, it was just the dream. Then he left, and no one spoke of it again.

After that night, Ryan learned to either wake himself up mid-dream or catch the screams in the base of his throat before they exploded from his lips. After a couple more weeks, he found himself able to wake up from a nightmare without disturbing Brendon, and would just listen to the sound of his boyfriend’s slow, peaceful breathing until his own heart rate slowed and he was able to drift off once more.

There was one night, however, when Ryan found their roles reversed. He’d jolted awake from a dreamless sleep, confused for a moment until he realized Brendon was shaking quite violently next to him, his breaths ragged and heavy, beads of sweat on his forehead and upper lip.

Ryan had hesitated at first, then carefully shaken Brendon awake. Brendon’s eyes had searched the dark, found Ryan’s face, barely illuminated in the light of passing cars and street lamps through the window.

“Are you okay?” Ryan had whispered. Brendon had just nodded, closed his eyes again and pulled Ryan closer to him. Part of Ryan didn’t want to know a thing about the dream, didn’t want to be privy to whatever horrible thoughts were passing through Brendon’s subconscious, because he knew they had to do with Liam, with what had happened to Ryan. Another part of him, however, secretly hoped Brendon would bring it up the next day and explain.

He didn’t. Ryan tried not to let it bother him, but… it bothered him.

“What happened in your dream last night?” he blurted out later, when they were finally left alone for the first time all day in a backstage dressing room. He flushed when Brendon blinked back at him in surprise, shirt only half-on with one arm still reaching for its sleeve.

“Nothing. I mean… I don’t really remember.”

Ryan sighed and looked down at his hands. “Yes, you do. You just don’t want to tell me because you think it’ll make me feel bad. Because it had to do with me.”

Brendon was silent for a moment. He shrugged his shirt on the rest of the way and buttoned it up. Then he sat down next to Ryan and took his hand.

“It was just me reliving that day,” he said quietly. “Feeling the same panic and fear again. That’s all. I didn’t tell you because I didn’t want you to feel bad but obviously I know you’re not dumb and that you’d assume it was something like that anyway.”

Ryan gave a few slow nods. “Okay.” Now that he knew, he wasn’t sure what else to say -- aside from “sorry”, which he knew by now wasn’t something Brendon wanted to hear for the upteenth time.

Brendon squeezed his hand. “Besides, all I needed to feel better was to wake up and see your face.”

The corners of Ryan’s lips curved upward and Brendon’s followed suit before he leaned in and planted a light kiss on Ryan’s cheek. As he pulled away Ryan surprised them both by turning his face toward Brendon’s, hand sliding up to the nape of Brendon’s neck to tug him close again. He pressed his lips to Brendon’s, softly at first, then needier, deepening the kiss. Ryan turned his body so he could hook one of his legs around Brendon’s waist and pull his body closer. Brendon gave a soft groan in response, his lips vibrating softly against Ryan’s.

They both jumped when the door swung open, breaking the kiss to see Jon standing in the doorway, mouth slightly open like he’d been about to form a sentence and then completely forgotten it at the sight before him. They all looked at each other for a few seconds, until Jon’s mouth snapped shut and he backed out of the room, closing the door behind him again without a word.

Brendon turned back to Ryan, worried for a moment about his reaction, then saw that Ryan was smiling, nostrils flared and lower lip sucked in just barely holding back a peal of laughter. Brendon couldn’t help but start to chuckle then, and Ryan leaned his head into Brendon’s shoulder, both of them dissolving into giggles.

So yes, Ryan was getting better. Slowly but surely, one day at a time. And though there were moments, little moments like laughing together in the dressing room and watching Spencer hug Ryan without his face completely draiing of color, where Brendon noticed this, the night that really solidified and validated all of these little signs of hope and progress in Brendon’s mind was May 24th: the Honda Civic Tour’s second night in Chicago.

They already knew it was going to be a special show. They were filming and recording that night for their next live CD/DVD combination, a plan that had been in place since months before the tour was even announced to the public. Ryan had initially been holding onto a lot of anxiety toward this particular set, but as the night drew near he gradually became, to his own surprise, less and less nervous about it. He already knew he’d probably hit a couple of false notes, maybe miss a chord here or there, say something dumb when introducing a song that would make him cringe later hearing it played back. That was all fine with him now. Each night onstage he felt a little more comfortable being there, and whenever that confidence faded he’d just look over at Brendon until it came back.

Ryan already felt like he had woken up with a different kind of energy that morning. He’d rolled over in the hotel bed, actually fully rested for once, and kissed Brendon awake. It grew heated beneath the covers in a matter of seconds, until Brendon groaned and broke away, rolling out of the bed.

“You are about to make it impossible for me to sit through an interview all morning,” he grumbled, stumbling into the bathroom while Ryan grinned after him.

This type of behavior continued throughout the morning and into that afternoon; they took turns nudging each other beneath the table at the radio station, Brendon at one point forgetting the second half of his sentence at the feeling of Ryan’s foot traveling up his calf. The glances they exchanged grew less surreptitious and more suggestive as the day continued, until Spencer and Jon had both noticed and started to share their own looks, theirs conveying more of an  _ are-you-fucking-kidding-me-right-now _ sort of message.

By the time the show was over Ryan felt like he was about to explode. Brendon kept brushing up against him while Zack debriefed them about the next day and what time they needed to wake up. Ryan sure hoped Brendon was listening, because his brain was focused on something else entirely.

He practically pounced on Brendon as soon as the door to their hotel room swung shut behind them, locking their lips together in a fiercely passionate kiss. He backed Brendon toward the bed, fingers already fumbling at the buttons of his boyfriend’s shirt.

“Holy--” Brendon’s breath hitched as Ryan’s lips sucked at his jawline. “Jesus christ, Ry, where’s the fire?”

“I want you,” Ryan whispered, directly into Brendon’s ear, before catching the other boy’s earlobe between his teeth for a brief moment and enjoying the soft moan that followed. He began to kiss a path down the side of Brendon’s neck, to his collarbone, to his now-uncovered chest.

“Hnnngh, fuck, okay, okay Ry, okay, hang on a sec, okay--” Brendon grabbed Ryan by the shoulders, holding him at arm’s length to fend off another onslaught of touching. He was already gasping for breath, face flushed bright red. Ryan felt a jolt of heat pass through him at the sight. “Ryan, are you… are you sure? I don’t… if you’re not actually…”

“I want to. I really want to.” Ryan curled his fingers around Brendon’s hands, gently removing them from his shoulders and pulling Brendon back toward him. “It’s okay. Promise.”

Brendon released a shaky breath, studying Ryan’s face for a long moment. Ryan could tell Brendon was just barely containing himself, trying to make sure it was actually okay to engage in the situation before he did so. Ryan raised his eyebrows, letting go of Brendon’s hands to slide his fingers up the other boy’s arms, then trailing them lightly down Brendon’s chest.

Brendon released a shuddering breath. “Fuck, yeah, okay.” He grabbed Ryan’s waist with both hands, pulling him closer with a new urgency as he let go of his reservations. Ryan resumed the kiss, his tongue nudging its way into Brendon’s mouth. Brendon gasped at the feeling of Ryan’s hips pushing needily against his own, the building pressure in his groin becoming more apparent with each passing millisecond, which Ryan did  _ not _ fail to notice. After succeeding in pushing Brendon’s shirt the rest of the way down his arms and onto the floor his hands moved to the button of Brendon’s jeans, freeing it and coaxing down the zipper as well.

“Okay, well that’s not fair, you’re still fully dressed,” Brendon panted, barely able to catch his breath enough to form the words.

“Whoops, better catch me up,” Ryan whispered back, a hint of a smirk on his face. He resumed kissing Brendon’s neck, while Brendon’s fingers reached for the buttons of Ryan’s shirt. Ryan tugged at the hem of Brendon’s jeans, sliding them further down his hips.

“Fuck,” Brendon gasped, feeling Ryan’s hand on his erection through his boxers, hands starting to shake when Ryan tugged those downward, too. He finally managed to pull Ryan’s shirt away from his body, Ryan forced to pause his teasing long enough to pull his arms through the sleeves. Brendon took advantage of the moment, pressing his lips to Ryan’s and walking them both backward until they were close enough to the bed for him to push Ryan backward onto it.

Ryan reached up, trying to pull Brendon down on top of him, but Brendon evaded his hands and instead started working Ryan’s own jeans down his legs, until he was able to tug them off and throw them to the side. He stepped out of his own pants, leaving them both in just their boxers, and climbed onto the bed, straddling Ryan with one knee on each side of his hips. Ryan pushed his fingers through Brendon’s hair, pulling him in for another kiss, this one a little longer, a little less aggressive than before.

Brendon relaxed somewhat, sinking down further, until some of his weight was resting against Ryan’s chest and stomach. He felt Ryan’s lips curve into a smile against his, and within seconds Ryan had rolled them both over, switching their positions, and broken the kiss, flashing a cheeky grin at Brendon before trailing kisses down his stomach. He stopped at the hem of Brendon’s boxers, eyes flicking back up to Brendon’s face for a few seconds’ pause.

“You’re really trying to kill me here,” Brendon groaned, watching breathlessly as Ryan inched the underwear down his legs, until he was able to kick them off and onto the floor. His mouth fell open, forming a perfect ‘o’ shape as Ryan closed his own lips over Brendon’s erection, slowly sliding his tongue back and forth and enjoying Brendon’s soft gasps of response.

Hardly a minute had passed before Brendon was panting “Ry, Ry, stop for a sec, stop, come here” and Ryan lifted his head, followed Brendon’s tugging at his arm back up to where the other boy lay. Brendon pulled him close and kissed him for a moment through his ragged breathing. He cupped Ryan’s face in his palm and ran his thumb along Ryan’s cheek.

“Jesus.  _ Fuck _ .” He exhaled slowly, looking into Ryan’s eyes. “We doing this?”

“Yes, please,” Ryan whispered, blinking back at him a few times.

Brendon gave a short half-laugh, half groan and leaned in, kissing Ryan again. “Fuck, you’re so cute. What are you doing to me. Killing me right now.” He rolled off the bed and rummaged through his overnight bag until his fingers found the condom and packet of lube he was looking for. When he climbed back onto the bed Ryan was lying back against the pillows, smiling sweetly up at him. “No but for real, you’re going to have to dial the ‘sexy’ back down from eleven because I’m not going to last long enough to even get this started.”

Ryan rolled his eyes dramatically, a small chuckle escaping him. “ _ Oh _ , right. Okay.”

“Really.” Brendon finished rolling on the condom and returned his full attention to where Ryan lay, caressing the side of his face with a gentle touch. “You are. So sexy. So fucking beautiful.”

Ryan felt his face flushing red. “ _ You _ are,” he murmured.

Brendon tilted his head to the side. “Mm, no, you. I mean, I said it first, so, I’m right.”

“Oh, is that how you figure it?”

“Well, also because…” Brendon slipped a single lube-coated finger inside of Ryan, still maintaining eye contact. “When I do this…” He pushed a little further, his finger finding that one special spot and hitting it  _ just right _ . Ryan gasped, arching his back a little, his eyelids fluttering. “...you do  _ that _ . You obviously can’t see it, but I would definitely call that proof.”

“Now… who’s playing… with who,” Ryan exhaled, as Brendon added another finger. Brendon laughed and leaned for another kiss.

“You good?” he asked, watching Ryan’s face as he added a third, then a fourth finger. Ryan nodded, groaning a bit under his breath at the sudden emptiness as Brendon removed his fingers. The groans grew a little louder when Brendon began to push into him, moving slowly while Ryan adjusted. Ryan reached up, sliding his hands along Brendon’s shoulders and down his chest.

“Okay?” Brendon grunted, blinking down at Ryan.

Ryan nodded again, hooking his legs around Brendon’s waist as the other boy started to move, as slowly and carefully as he could manage at first without losing control, then faster, caressing Ryan’s erection with the hand he wasn’t using for balance and smiling through his heavy breathing at Ryan’s soft whimpers of pleasure.

Neither of them lasted very long; the sexual tension had been building up for weeks whether they noticed it or not, and now that they were here it felt like this night was long overdue. Ryan watched Brendon dispose of the condom and lie back on the bed through heavy lidded eyes. He smiled when Brendon turned toward him and scooted nearer, pulling Ryan close.

“I love you,” he whispered in Ryan’s ear. “Like, a lot.”

Ryan smiled. “I’d say I love you  _ more _ , but I was told to ‘dial it back’ earlier, so…”

Brendon laughed, the sound vibrating through Ryan’s body. Ryan shifted positions, resting his head on Brendon’s chest, listening to the steady thrum of his boyfriend’s heartbeat beneath his ear. He gave a small sigh and they fell into an easy silence for a few minutes, each just soaking up the comfort of the others’ presence for awhile, Brendon’s fingers stroking through Ryan’s hair and Ryan intertwining the fingers of Brendon’s free hand between his own.

“I’m happy,” Ryan murmured under his breath. He said it like the thought had just occurred to him and he might as well say it out loud, almost nonchalant in how he spoke it. To Brendon, though, hearing those two words felt simultaneously like being hit full-force by a bus and having the weight of the entire world being lifted off his shoulders.

“Me too,” he whispered back, trying to blink back the tears that had sprung into his eyes before Ryan could look up and see them. “Me too.”

-

Ryan leaned against the top of the makeup counter in the dimly lit dressing room. He watched through the mirror in front of him as Brendon’s arms circled his torso from behind, the singer’s face appearing over Ryan’s left shoulder and beaming back at their reflections.

“We did it,” Brendon murmured. “It’s really over.” He sighed, the breath tickling Ryan’s ear as it swept past. “I’m kind of… sad.”

Ryan smiles. “Yeah? You did smash your guitar  _ quite _ aggressively back there.”

Brendon chuckled, releasing his hold on Ryan’s waist to step to one side and stand next to his boyfriend. “Really, though. I know we were all… going through a lot, this tour. But… I dunno. It was still great. And…” He paused, looking somewhat bashful all of the sudden. Ryan turned his head to look directly at Brendon instead of their reflection, curious. “You know, it was the first tour where you and I were… together. So obviously, yeah, best tour ever.”

Ryan ducked his head, smiling down at their clasped hands. “You’re so cheesy.”

“Yeah.” Brendon planted a soft kiss on his cheek, just before a knock sounded on the slightly-ajar dressing room door.

“Hey, guys.” Spencer poked his head inside. “End-of-tour shots in a few.” He glanced back and forth between the two of them, probably trying to gage just how much he was interrupting.

“Cool, one sec,” Brendon replied, and Spencer nodded and disappeared again. Brendon glanced at Ryan. “You wanna go?”

Ryan hesitated, turning back to the mirror. “I… I don’t know,” he watched himself say. “It’s just. A lot of people. A lot of… Just a lot.”

“Yeah. I get it.”

“But you should go. You can give another cheesy speech.”

Brendon smirked. “Mhmm, yeah, okay.” He squeezed Ryan’s hand. “I’ll steal you a shot.”

“Sure.” Ryan turned his face upward to accept the quick kiss Brendon leaned in for before turning and slipping out into the hallway.

Ryan sighed, closing and locking the door for privacy while he changed clothes. It was weird, being done with the tour, being back in LA. Brendon had already made it clear Ryan was welcome to stay at his place as long as he wanted, that there was no reason he need even step foot inside his old apartment ever again. Ryan had still been jittery on the drive into the city that day, though, still felt like he ought to be scanning the crowd for a certain familiar face while onstage that night.

He was just being paranoid, he decided. He stepped out of his jeans and hung them over the back of a chair next to his sweat-stained dress shirt, leaving him clad in just a thin undershirt and boxers. He turned to reach for his duffel bag and froze, a sudden movement in the mirror catching his attention. He slowly straightened and stared, wide-eyed, watching in the glassy surface as a shadow unfolded from the tiny closet space behind him.

“Wow, I really thought he’d never leave. You two are disgusting, by the way. Though I’m sure you both think you’re  _ real _ cute.”

No. Fuck, no, this wasn’t happening, no way.  _ This is a dream. Wake up. Wake the fuck up. _

“So nice of you to go ahead and lock the door and start undressing, great job thinking ahead.” Ryan started shaking as Liam stepped toward him, maintaining eye contact with Ryan in the mirror. “Wow, don’t look so surprised. The closet’s the  _ first _ place you’re supposed to check.”

Fuck,  _ fuck _ , why couldn’t he move? His lower lip quivered as Liam took another step closer to having him pinned against the makeup counter. “But you know, I knew you wouldn’t. You probably decided all the way back in Michigan or Canada or wherever the fuck that you simply  _ had _ to stop being so paranoid, had to stop always checking for the monster under the bed.” Liam’s lips spread into a cold, cruel smile. “I just had to wait until you let your guard down. And, oh! You did!”

Ryan flinched. His brain was screaming at him to do all sorts of different things ( _ run, no wait don’t move, scream for help, no wait be QUIET or it’ll hurt so bad _ ) and his body wouldn’t make up its mind which advice to take. Liam watched his gaze flit toward the locked door in the mirror. Just as Ryan finally forced his body to  _ move already, dammit _ , Liam reached out and caught his arm mid-dash-to-safety and yanked him backward. Ryan couldn’t suppress a whimper of fear as Liam shoved him up against the makeup counter, hands gripping the surface on either side of Ryan’s torso. Liam leaned his full weight against Ryan’s body, pinning him in place. Tears sprung to Ryan’s eyes and he ducked his head, trying not to let Liam see.

“You can’t run from me,” Liam growled. “You don’t just get to run off with that fucking prick and forget that you’re fucking  _ mine _ . You -- jesus, fucking  _ look _ at me--” He reached up with one hand and gripped Ryan’s jaw, forcing his head back up. Ryan struggled not to burst into tears as he unwillingly met the gaze of Liam’s reflection again, the look on Liam’s face sending a chill through his trembling body.

“You don’t get to run away anymore.”

He could feel Liam’s hands moving behind him, heard the telltale clink of a belt buckle, the sound of a zipper being pulled down. His eyes traveled down in the mirror, a sob catching in the base of his throat when he saw Liam’s pants sliding down his hips. “Please, don’t, please--”

The hoarse plea had hardly left his lips before Liam’s fingers were curling through his hair, slamming his head down against the counter. Ryan barely stifled a cry of pain and terror, a soft whimper escaping him instead as his right temple hit the hard surface. Liam bent over him from behind, holding him down. “Did I  _ fucking _ tell you that you could speak?” he hissed, mouth pressed up against Ryan’s ear.

Ryan started crying, tears spilling unchecked down his face. His body shook all over, filled with the purest, most intense fear he’d ever experienced in his life. He kept his jaw clenched tight, trying to keep his sobs silent, scared to death of what would happen to him if he didn’t.

Liam straightened up, one hand still clutching a handful of Ryan’s hair to keep him pinned down on the countertop. Ryan felt the fingers of Liam’s free hand yanking on the waist of his boxers, tugging them halfway down his thighs. His chest tightened, barely allowing him to breathe. He found his own reflection again in the mirror, so close that all he could see was his eyes, the bridge of his nose, the thin trickle of blood dripping from the side of his head onto the counter.

Liam didn’t even bother trying to loosen him up. He shoved into Ryan without warning and Ryan couldn’t hold back a sharp cry of pain. His fingers groped blindly for the edge of the counter, desperate for something to grip onto. He struggled to catch his breath, his throat burning from suppressing the urge to scream. Liam pulled back and paused before ramming forward again, forcing himself deep inside of Ryan. The scream burst free then, muffled only by the desperate tightness of his jaw. Liam yanked him up by the hair, free arm wrapping around his front and clutching him tightly to Liam’s chest. He watched in the mirror, eyes stretched wide with terror and unable to look away.

“What’s wrong?” Liam panted into his ear, tiny whimpers trickling from between Ryan’s lips as he thrust in and out a few more times. “Did Brendon not loosen you up enough these past few months?” He yanked on Ryan’s hair again, forcing him to look directly up long enough for Liam to spit in his face. “Fucking whore.”

Ryan flinched and Liam smirked, releasing his hold on Ryan’s chest to grope for something on the counter. Ryan’s eyes followed the movement, breaths quickening when he saw Liam’s hand close around the belt he’d removed just moments before. His stomach twisted with dread as he watched in the mirror, Liam staring back at him with his cold, empty gaze while he looped the leather around Ryan’s neck. The buckle, cold and hard, bore into the nape of Ryan’s neck, terror filling him as his body was reminded of how the shock collar had pressed into his skin the same way, cold and cruel and painful. Though unwilling, his eyes found Liam’s, silently pleading for mercy. Liam just sneered and gave the end of the belt a vicious jerk.

Panic surged through him and his fingers rose to his neck, clawing at the leather wrapped tightly around his throat. At the same time, Liam started moving again inside of him, each thrust rougher than the one before. Ryan’s entire body was flooded with pain but his brain could only focus on the lack of oxygen in his lungs. Every several seconds Liam would loosen his grip enough for some of the belt to feed back through the buckle and Ryan would gasp desperately for breath before the chokehold tightened again.

Liam’s free hand gripped Ryan’s hip, so tightly his fingers were bound to leave deep bruises on Ryan’s pale skin. After what must have been a few minutes, though it felt more like an eternity, Liam paused and Ryan watched in the mirror through bloodshot, tear-filled eyes, hoping desperately that he was done even though he hadn’t noticed any other physical signs of Liam being… finished. Liam just switched hands, assuming a harsh grip on the other side of Ryan’s waist, and resumed violently snapping his hips against Ryan’s ass.

Through the haze in his disoriented, pounding head Ryan realized he could feel something wet trickling down his leg. Liam still hadn’t stopped moving. It had to be blood. A new fear cut through the oxygen-deprived fog in his head as he wondered what kind of irreversible damage Liam was doing to his insides, realized he had no clue just how much his body could handle before it simply broke.

Liam jerked extra hard on the belt, interrupting Ryan’s train of thought as he was pulled back against Liam’s body again. He watched Liam’s hand in the mirror, traveling upward from Ryan’s now-bruised hip. His fingers pushed beneath Ryan’s loosely-fitting undershirt, sliding up to the top of Ryan’s chest.

“Look at yourself. Just a cheap whore. You think anyone’s going to want you after this?”

No.  _ No _ . Liam could do a lot of things to hurt him but if there was one thing Ryan would  _ not _ let him take it was the only sure thing he had left in his life, the only thing he really knew for sure: that he could always, no matter what, trust Brendon. His chin and lower lip quivered but he still met Liam’s gaze, eyes still containing more hate than they did defeat.

Liam scoffed. “What? Don’t believe me?” His fingers dug into Ryan’s skin and he jerked them downward, clawing a set of thin red lines into Ryan’s chest and smirking when Ryan whimpered in response. “Where’s your little boyfriend now, then? Hmm? Why isn’t he here  _ protecting _ you, if he cares  _ so much? _ ” He punctuated his statement with several harsh thrusts, laughing as a fresh set of tears spilled down Ryan’s cheeks. “What’s wrong? Does he not fuck you like the cheap whore you are? Huh?”

Ryan cried out at the sudden feeling of Liam’s hand on his groin, fingers grabbing hold and squeezing cruelly. “Let me know when you’re close,” Liam taunted, his voice high-pitched and mocking. He tightened the belt again and shoved Ryan back down against the counter, thrusting faster and faster until finally,  _ finally _ , Ryan felt it, a wet heat exploding inside of him, burning him, poisoning his insides.

Liam was still for a moment, then exhaled and pulled out. He stepped back, releasing at last his grip on both Ryan and the end of the belt. Ryan’s fingers pulled desperately at the leather, tugging it away from his skin as he gasped for breath. He remained slumped against the makeup counter, still half-paralyzed with the fear of what Liam might do next, but he did manage to reach down with both hands, blindly groping for the waistband of his underwear. He heard Liam chuckling as he tugged the boxers back up over his hips.

“Feeling shy all of the sudden? Like I haven’t seen it all already.”

Ryan squeezed his eyes shut, every part of him burning with shame as he tried to hold back another onslaught of tears.

“So, we have a couple of options at this point. Really, I had planned on it being a bit harder to sneak in this evening, but clearly I overestimated how hard your security team would be working tonight. Bummer. I bet you really thought they were trying to keep you ‘safe’ too, hmm?”

Ryan cringed, not missing the sharp insinuation that no one cared enough about him to try to keep him safe.

“Believe it or not, that actually works in your advantage. I was thinking after getting this far I might as well just snap your neck and be done with it, but if it was so easy to get myself in, how hard could it possibly be to get the both of us out?”

Ryan’s breath quickened, his fingers closing around the edge of the countertop as Liam’s words sparked a deep panic inside of him. “No, no,” he groaned under his breath, his voice hoarse from the throttling he’d just undergone. “No…”

Liam didn’t seem to hear him, or if he did, he didn’t pay him any attention. “I bet I could just stick you in one of those giant rolling box things and wheel you right out. No one would ever even realize. How funny would that be?”

He laughed. Something about the sound of it, the twisted, perverse cackling, pushed Ryan right over the edge. He didn’t even try to stifle the instinctive scream of terror that rose from his throat. It was a miracle the sound even made it out after he’d just been choked half to death, but it did, and then he was up, moving, feet tripping over each other to get to the door. “Help, someone, Brendon, help me, someone  _ help me _ \--”

He cut himself off with a half-yelp, half-scream of pain as Liam caught him by the arm and flung him down onto the floor. He started to struggle to his feet again but Liam’s shoe struck him square in the chest, knocking the breath from his lungs. He flinched when Liam drew his foot back, winding up for another harsh kick. There was an audible  _ crack _ following the second blow and Ryan’s mouth fell open in a soundless cry of pain.

Liam’s hand was already curling around the end of the belt, which was still looped loosely around Ryan’s neck. “You want to play it that way?” He snarled. He climbed on top of Ryan, one knee pressing into Ryan’s ribcage, sending fresh waves of pain shooting through his nervous system. “Fine. Time’s up.”

Liam snapped his arm back, pulling the belt as tight around Ryan’s neck as he possibly could, his face bright red with rage. Black spots danced in front of Ryan’s eyes and his fingers went from clawing desperately at his neck to falling limply across it, his skull thrumming dully with the sound of blood rushing past his eardrums. It was different this time, and he knew it. Liam wasn’t going to tease him with a gasp of air every few seconds this time. Liam wasn’t playing with him anymore.

Liam was going to kill him, and there was nothing he could do about it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (((I KNOW. I KNOW. I KNOW I KNOW I KNOW. I TOLD U I WAS READY 4 DEATH I HIGHKEY STARTED CRYING WHILE WRITING THIS IDK WHY MY BRAIN COMES UP WITH THESE THINGS I'M REALLY SORRY I PROMISE I'LL LET YOU KNOW WHAT HAPPENS ASAP LOVE U BYE)))


	13. Chapter 12

Brendon whistled under his breath as he walked down the hallway, a near-empty bottle of whiskey swinging from his right hand with the fingers of his left curled around a couple of plastic shot glasses. The laughs and cheers and clinking in the green room behind him gradually subsided as he made his way back toward the dressing room where he’d left Ryan some twenty or thirty minutes ago. The single shot he’d taken in everyone else’s company buzzed through his body, not enough for him to really even feel tipsy, just enough to soften some of his post-show weariness. He smiled when he remembered that tonight, they’d be going home, back to Brendon’s apartment, just him and Ryan, with more than enough days of nothing on the calendar, no interviews or meetings or appointments, ahead of them. The idea was like heaven to Brendon. He couldn’t wait.

He rounded the corner, eyes finding the closed door he was headed toward down the long corridor. He’d only just taken another step in its direction when he heard the scream, loud and terrified and awful and coming from, as far as Brendon could tell, behind  _ that door _ . The breath he’d been taking got stuck halfway up his throat, his entire body freezing up for a moment as cold, sickening dread filled his chest.

Then: “Help, someone, Brendon, help me, someone  _ help me _ \--”

The bottle and shot glasses fell to the floor, shattering at his feet and splashing whiskey across the linoleum. His ears barely picked up the sound as his feet broke into a wild dash down the hall, his heartbeat a dull  _ thud thud thud thud thud  _ against his skull. From the corner of his gaze he thought he saw Zack’s looming form appear at the opposite end of the corridor, but this barely registered in his mind as he neared the dressing room door. Every part of him had gone numb to everything except those horrible sounds he’d just heard, everything except the possibilities of what was going on behind that door.

His fingers closed around the door handle and gave it an aggressive twist, his stomach clenching when he realized the door was locked. He heard a dull thumping sound from inside and, becoming frantic at this point, backed up several paces. He lunged toward the door, one leg raised, and kicking against the wood with all of the force in his body. He heard a telltale splintering noise, but the door managed to stay in place. He cursed under what little breath he was able to produce and backed up again. This time the door gave way to his foot, swinging back against the wall behind it with a loud  _ crack. _

His body kept going, propelling him through the open doorway. It was as if time froze in the following seconds that it took for his brain to process what was happening inside the room: Liam looking up at him, eyes wide and dark and malicious, the wheels in Brendon’s head spinning off their axles as he realized what Liam was doing, why he was bent over on the floor,  _ who _ he was bent over…

His foot snapped out and struck hard against the right side of Liam’s face. Liam grunted, faltered. His grip loosened on the end of the belt clutched between his fingers -- the belt pulled tightly around Ryan’s neck, the belt he was using to choke Ryan, the belt that was turning Ryan’s face pale and blue and oh  _ god _ was he breathing? Was he -- Brendon’s hands reached out, groping, one closing around Liam’s throat and the other grabbing up a fistful of his shirt. Rage and adrenaline flooding his body, he flung the other man aside with more force than he normally would have thought himself capable of.

Liam’s body hit the floor with a sharp  _ thwack _ and Brendon’s brain switched gears. He dropped to his knees at Ryan’s side, fingers scrabbling, tugging at the belt, pulling it loose, lifting it over Ryan’s head. “Ryan? Ry, please, god please--” A sob of relief rose from his throat when Ryan’s lips parted, sucked in a weak breath.

He bent forward, heart racing, and cupped Ryan’s face in his palm. “I’m here, baby, I’m here, it’s okay, gonna be okay now, promise…” Ryan’s eyes flickered open, still flooded with terror but softening, filling with tears, as they focused on Brendon’s face. He swallowed, opened his mouth to say something -- no sound came out but Brendon was already nodding in response, shushing him under his breath. “I know, I know, it’s okay. You’re okay now.”

He watched Ryan take another shuddering breath before his eyes traveled away from the other boy’s face, soaking in the remainder of the situation and god, there was blood, blood smeared across the floor, blood on Ryan’s legs, his -- oh god, his boxers --

He heard shuffling, felt fingers clawing at the back of his shirt. He saw for a brief moment Ryan’s terrified gaze shifting toward something behind him. His brain immediately clicked back into offensive mode. He twisted around, right fist catching Liam square in the jaw.

Enraged satisfaction filled Brendon’s chest as he watched Liam’s head snap back from the force of the blow. He shoved Liam back against the floor, one hand closing around Liam’s throat, the other curling into a tight fist and punching again, again, again, then once more. “I’ll kill you,” he heard himself say, then he was screaming it, over and over and he couldn’t stop punching, his knuckles going numb, his vision blurring with rage --

“Brendon. Brendon, I think you knocked him out -- Brendon, you’re gonna kill him!”

“Good!  _ Good! _ He--” Hands closed around his shoulders, yanked him to his feet. Brendon struggled against the grip, breathing heavily, but Zack wouldn’t let him go. “Just let me -- just let me, let me do it, I’ll say you weren’t even here, just let me--”

“Brendon, stop, listen to yourself.”

“He deserves to die!” Brendon screamed, pulling against Zack’s hold on him. “Just let me--”

“Brendon!” Zack gave him a quick shake. “Shut up and listen to me, you have got to calm down. I need you to stop trying to beat this piece of shit to death and take care of Ryan. Okay? Can you do that for me?”

_ Ryan _ . Oh, god, Ryan. Brendon went limp in Zack’s arms, sudden tears springing into his eyes. “Let me go,” he murmured. “Ryan -- Zack, let me, let me…” Zack hesitantly loosened his grasp, watching to make sure that as Brendon slid out of it he didn’t just lunge back toward Liam’s bloodied body.

Brendon’s rage had faded, though, his mind now focused on Ryan and Ryan alone. He dropped to his knees, sliding across the floor to where Ryan lay. Ryan had rolled onto his side, curled into himself, his back to the turmoil. Brendon could see the tremors shaking his entire body, could just barely hear the ragged breaths Ryan was sucking in and out of his chest. “Ry,” he whispered. His eyes flicked down to where the hem of Ryan’s shirt was riding up. His chest tightened when he saw the deep imprint of a hand already etched in red across the skin of Ryan’s hip, blood drying over the cuts where fingernails had dug in.

He heard the scuffle of footsteps and glanced up, body tense, prepared to jump to Ryan’s defense again if need be. Spencer and Jon froze in the doorway, both locking eyes with Brendon for a moment before their eyes slowly traveled down to Ryan’s quivering form, then around the rest of the room.

“One of you call 9-1-1,” he heard Zack snap from behind him. “Get an ambulance here. Or… fuck, have them send two.”

Brendon swallowed past the lump in his throat, focusing on Spencer’s face as Jon pulled out his cell phone and turned away. “Get me something,” he croaked. “A blanket. A curtain, a… a drum cover, something.”

Spencer nodded and ducked out. Brendon exhaled and maneuvered around to Ryan’s other side. Ryan had one arm raised to shield his face, the other wrapped around his chest, pressed tightly to his ribcage. “Ryan,” Brendon whispered. “Ryan. Hey.” Ryan flinched at the feeling of Brendon’s fingers wrapping gently around his right wrist, but allowed his arm to be pulled away from his face.

Ryan’s eyes rolled up to meet Brendon’s for a moment before they squeezed shut again, his lower lip trembling. Brendon felt tears welling up in his own eyes, spilling down his face. “You’re okay,” he managed to choke out. “I’ve got you, I’m here.” He tried to blink away some of the excess moisture in his eyes, leaning in to take a closer look at the streak of blood along Ryan’s temple, trying to see how deep the cut was.

Spencer stepped back in, a balled-up length of thin black fabric clutched in his fists. He held it out to Brendon, who quickly snatched it up and draped it over Ryan’s body. It wasn’t much, but it would do its part to shield Ryan from any curious eyes they might pass on their way out. “Is the ambulance coming?”

“It’s on its way.”

“Good.” Brendon chewed on his lip for a second. “Hey, Ry, we’re gonna go outside now, okay? We’re gonna meet the ambulance outside so we can get to the hospital quicker, okay?” Ryan winced at the word ‘hospital’. “I know. I know. It’s gonna be okay. I’m right here, I’m gonna be right here. I’m gonna lift you now, okay?” Ryan just nodded a little in response. “Okay. Here we go.”

Brendon moved behind Ryan again, crouching low and slipping one arm beneath the crook of Ryan’s knees, the other around Ryan’s shoulders. He started to stand, lifting Ryan toward his chest as he did so. A sharp, sudden cry of pain rushed past Ryan’s lips and Brendon froze. “What’s wrong, what did I do? Did I hurt you?”

Ryan’s jaw clenched, stifling a groan as he shifted in Brendon’s arms. “R-Ribs… he kicked…” He pressed his face against Brendon’s chest. “Broken, something’s… broken.”

“Okay. All right.” Brendon waited several seconds for Ryan to settle, the warmth from Ryan’s ragged breathing warming his skin through his shirt. He glanced up, meeting Spencer’s worried gaze for a moment. “Good?” he murmured, waiting until he felt Ryan’s short nod to follow Spencer out the door. Jon was standing just outside and fell into step behind them, he and Spencer flanking Brendon closely to help shield Ryan from prying eyes.

Brendon could already hear the ambulance’s wail, saw the flashing white and red lights bouncing off the walls of the venue as Spencer held the heavy metal door open for him and Ryan to pass through. He could feel Ryan curling into him at the sound of the siren. One of his hands poked through the folds of the black cloth wrapped around him, fingers grabbing hold of Brendon’s shirt.

“It’s okay,” Brendon whispered. “I’m here. You’re okay.” He hesitated, watching the paramedics unload a gurney from the back of the ambulance. “Listen, I’m gonna be right here the whole time, okay? I’m not gonna let anyone even look twice at you from here on out unless they’re a nurse or doctor trying to treat you. I’m not gonna let anyone else hurt you. Okay?”

“Okay,” Ryan whispered, barely audible with his face still pressed against Brendon’s chest. “I… I’m s-sorry, Bren…”

Brendon clenched his jaw, fighting back a fresh onslaught of tears. “You have nothing to be sorry for, Ry. Not a thing.”

“I…”

The paramedics were headed toward them. “We’ll talk about it later, Ry, okay? There’ll be lots of time later, I promise. The paramedics are coming and they’re gonna get you on the stretcher and we’re going to get in the ambulance, all right? Here we go.”

The next couple of hours were a blur. Brendon tried to narrate what was going on as much as he could, hoping Ryan would focus on the sound of his voice over the feeling of being touched by strangers. Ryan still cringed every time a set of unfamiliar fingers so much as brushed his skin. Brendon could tell Ryan was doing his best to keep it together, struggling to avoid collapsing into a state of hysteria -- whether or not that was for Brendon’s sake or because he didn’t want to fall apart in front of the paramedics, Brendon couldn’t tell.

He rode with Ryan in the ambulance, knees folded up against the edge of the gurney, one hand wrapped around Ryan’s and the other lightly caressing his hair. Ryan blinked back at him from behind the oxygen mask he’d been given, eyes heavy with weariness but never staying fully shut.

Ryan remained silent through the beginning of his medical assessment, allowing Brendon to do the talking for him. He held fast to Brendon’s hand, his grip tightening each time the doctor touched him. Brendon told her about the pain in Ryan’s ribcage and she looked to Ryan, asked him if he had felt or heard any sort of cracking with the impact of Liam’s kicking. When he nodded she slid the hem of his shirt up to his armpits.

Ryan squeezed Brendon’s fingers so hard he thought they might come out of their sockets, but he forgot about it as soon as he saw the four jagged red lines marring the skin from Ryan’s chest down to his stomach, like he’d been clawed by a wild animal. Brendon bit down on his lower lip, trying not to let his reaction show.

“From the looks of the bruises starting to form and the pain you’ve described, I would say there’s a good chance at least one, maybe two of your ribs are cracked. For now there’s no need to subject you to an x-ray unless any more serious problems develop, so we can just keep an eye on it for now.”

Ryan just stared up at the ceiling, flinching as his shirt was pulled back down. Brendon nodded in response to what the doctor had said. Ryan continued to appear as though he was blocking everything out as the doctor finished checking his vitals and the more visible flesh wounds on his body. His reaction was immediate, however, as soon as the words “rape kit” left her mouth.

“We generally advise victims to have one done as soon as possible. It provides invaluable evidence when pressing charges. It can be scary and does tend to feel very invasive but we try to get it over with as fast as we can. We collect the clothes worn during the attack, examine for physical signs of assault, photograph any visible injuries--”

“No.” Ryan’s voice was incredibly hoarse at this point, the full consequences of being strangled half to death starting to affect him. He was shaking from head to toe as he tried to sit up, wincing from the pain that radiated through his torso at the movement. “Don’t… I don’t want…”

“Easy, Ry, take it easy, you’ll hurt yourself.” Brendon bent down to achieve the same eye level as his boyfriend, cupping his free hand around the side of Ryan’s face. “Hey, look at me, you’re okay--”

“I don’t wanna do it,” Ryan mumbled, eyes filling with tears. “Don’t let them take pictures, Bren, I don’t want… don’t want people to see, please…”

“Everything will be confidential,” the doctor said. Brendon really wished she wouldn’t chime in while he was still trying to calm Ryan down, but he nodded, smoothing his hand through Ryan’s hair.

“That’s right, Ry, that’s right. No one’s ever going to see the pictures unless you say so, okay? They’re just for the police so we can press charges.”

Ryan’s chin trembled. “He won’t… go to jail unless I…?”

Brendon bit down on his lip. “I don’t know, Ry. I… I don’t know.” He took a deep breath. “Either way, Ry, you need to be… examined,” he murmured. “We have to make sure you’re okay, after… what he did.”

Ryan squeezed his eyes shut. “Okay,” he whispered. “Just… don’t leave me, Bren, please don’t leave.”

“I’m not gonna leave, Ry, I’m not gonna leave.” Brendon glanced up at the doctor. “I can stay during it, right?”

She hesitated. “We generally try to keep the procedure private…”

Ryan was already trembling again, shaking his head back and forth. Brendon’s jaw clenched. “But I  _ can _ be there for it?”

He made eye contact with the doctor, who hesitated, but finally nodded. “I’ll make the arrangements myself.”

Ryan had to completely disrobe for the rape kit. Brendon tensed up when the doctor asked him, but Ryan complied without protest. He kept his eyes screwed shut the entire time the photos were being taken. Brendon, however, couldn’t look away, eyes drawn to the marks littering Ryan’s hips, the bruises growing darker with every second that passed.

“Okay, you can put the paper gown on now and then I’m gonna have you hop up on the exam table, okay?”

Ryan grabbed the paper robe off the end of the exam table and shook it until it unfolded, yanking it up his shoulders with shaking hands. He looked up, eyes finding Brendon’s. Brendon could see the terror reflected in his gaze as he anticipated what was about to happen. Brendon stepped away from the wall he’d been leaning against to stay out of the way and reached for Ryan’s hand, steadying him while he climbed onto the table.

“Roll onto your side for me?”

Ryan cringed, but did as he was asked. Brendon hooked his foot around the leg of a nearby stool and pulled it toward him, perching on it and scooting close to the table. He wrapped one hand around Ryan’s, resting the other on the other boy’s forehead, thumb gently caressing his skin.

Brendon could tell Ryan was trying to stay collected. For a brief moment, he succeeded. Then the feeling of unfamiliar fingers inside of him, pushing and probing against his torn and aching insides, fully registered, and Brendon saw the facade crumble all at once as Ryan burst into tears.

“No, please,” he sobbed. “Please, please…”

“I know, Ry, I know, I’m right here.” Brendon was crying, too, unable to hold back his own tears at the sight of Ryan in so much distress. “I’m sorry, baby, I’m sorry, I’m right here, I’m sorry. You’re okay, I’m here.”

“Bren…”

“I know. I know. Just hang on, baby, just hang on, almost done. Almost done.”

Ryan gasped as the doctor removed her fingers and stepped back. “Okay. We’re done.” Her gloves snapped as she tugged them off and Ryan flinched at the sound. “The bleeding seems to have stopped for now so there’s no reason to be worried. I’m gonna give you both a minute and then the nurse will come to bring you up to your room where we can discuss the extent of the injuries further, okay? And Mr. Ross can go ahead and change into the full robe on the chair over there.”

“Thank you,” Brendon murmured, not looking up from Ryan’s face. He heard the door close behind the doctor as she stepped out. He gave Ryan a moment to catch his breath, collect himself. “Hey.” He stood up from the stool, lowering himself onto the edge of the table instead. “Hey, come here.” He let Ryan sit up on his own before wrapping his arm around him. Ryan leaned into the embrace, face nestling against the crook of Brendon’s neck. Brendon could feel the tears still on Ryan’s face transferring onto his skin.

“Hey,” he whispered, planting a light kiss on the top of Ryan’s head. “Let’s just take a breather, okay? Just you and me.” He felt Ryan give a shaky nod, suck in a deep breath. “You did great, Ry. I know that had to be so awful for you just now.”

Ryan shuddered against him. “Is it over?” he whispered. “Is h-he… is he going to jail now?”

Brendon sighed. “I hope so. I hope so, Ry.”

A heavy sob shook Ryan’s body. “Bren… if he tries again, I… I’m not, I c-can’t…”

Brendon’s jaw clenched. “It’s not gonna happen again. It’s not.” He pressed his lips to Ryan’s forehead again, eyes squeezing shut for a moment. “I don’t care if it comes down to me putting that bastard in his grave before he even has the chance to come after you again, okay? Never again.  _ Never _ , Ry. On my goddamn life.” He felt a pang of guilt as the words hung in the air between them.  _ Yeah, well, you said that last time too, didn’t you? And look where we are now. _

Ryan opened his mouth to reply, but didn’t get the chance -- they both jumped at the sound of the door sliding open. A young woman decked out in blue scrubs poked her head in. “Hi, Mr. Ross? Doctor Hadley sent me, are you ready to…?” She trailed off as she noticed Ryan still wearing his paper exam gown. “Oh. Do you guys still need a minute, or…?”

Brendon nodded at her. “Please. Just, five more minutes, yeah?”

She nodded and backed out of the room, pulling the door shut behind her again.

“So we’re gonna go upstairs with the nurse in a minute, okay?” Brendon said, once she was gone. “Zack’s arranged it all with management. Private room, paid for as long as the hospital thinks you should stay. The hospital has promised to be discreet and there’s a cover story we can release literally the  _ moment _ even the  _ smallest _ rumour about what’s going on leaks. Okay? And we’re gonna get you all rested and healed up and I’m gonna be here the whole time. Zack and Jon and Spencer, too.”

“Okay,” Ryan mumbled. “I’m… s’tired, Bren, it… it hurts…”

“I know,” Brendon whispered back. “I know. It’s okay.” He squeezed Ryan’s hand, took a deep breath. “It’s all gonna be okay now, Ry. I promise.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> phewww okay sorry so sorry for leaving that cliffhanger there for like a whole week, didn't mean for it to be that long but you know, Life Happens and my dumb brain doesn't always play along with what I want it to do ha
> 
> also again as is becoming my worn out mantra throughout the author's notes of this story I'm not sure I totally dig this chapter but maybe it's just me being tired and rereading it too many times lol. idk the next chapter is probably going to be me smashing emotions over everyone's heads as the Reality Of The Trauma sets in anyway so I'm trying to give myself a break for not feeling like I completely poured my entire well of emotion out into this one chapter.
> 
> anyways thanks so much everyone who left comments on the last chapter!!! I got so many comments from people I've never heard from before so I know I must have really succeeded in freaking ya'll out lmaooo. so uh YEAH anyway thanks so much again for that, hearing from you guys is just really nice and gives me so much more motivation than I'd have otherwise to continue writing so uhh yeah just, thanks a whole bunch and I hope to continue hearing from ya'll maybe? :)


	14. Chapter 13

Ryan didn’t look as though he was processing anything the doctor said while she debriefed him and Brendon on the full extent of his injuries. He just stared off toward the wall opposite his bed with a blank expression on his face, hands gripping fistfuls of the hospital blanket draped over his lap. This left Brendon’s spinning head on its own to process words and phrases such as  _ tearing _ and  _ possible further damage _ and  _ won’t know until _ and  _ if he spikes a fever _ .

Brendon had no time to dwell on any of these things, however, because Doctor Hadley concluded her rundown by informing them that “Also, there’s an LAPD detective here to take your statement, if you’re feeling up to it.”

If Ryan hadn’t been paying attention before, he was now. Brendon felt him go rigid beneath the hand he had wrapped lightly around Ryan’s wrist.

“We can do it later if you’re not ready,” Brendon murmured, his eyes on Ryan’s. Ryan’s gaze shifted to meet Brendon’s. He looked so tired. Just a glimpse of the exhaustion painting his face made Brendon want to jump up and demand to know why the doctor couldn’t just leave him be.  _ What’s wrong with you? _ He wanted to scream.  _ He’s been strangled to the point where he can barely speak, he can hardly keep his eyes open, can’t you see he needs to rest? _

But he didn’t, because Ryan sighed and looked down at his hands and muttered, “It’s fine. Just wanna get it over with.”

“Okay…” Brendon bit his lip. “Do you want me to…”

Ryan released his death grip on the bedsheets to grab Brendon’s hand. “Please don’t leave,” he whispered.

His eyes were still boring holes in his lap but Brendon could see the sudden fear gleaming off them at the idea of being left alone with a stranger. Brendon wanted to kick himself for even suggesting it. “Okay, of course. Sorry, of course I’ll stay.”

Ryan ran his tongue over his dry lips. “Just… I don’t think I’ll be able to unless I’m… just pretending I’m only telling you,” he said, his voice quiet, clearly uncomfortable with the conversation being overheard by the doctor, still standing on the other side of the bed.

Brendon nodded. “Okay. Of course.” He didn’t know what else to say. His stomach was twisting itself into knots of nausea at the thought of having to hear a detailed account of what Ryan had just been through, but he did his best not to let it show.

“I’ll let the detective know.” Neither of them looked up as the doctor left the room, pulling the door shut behind her. Ryan released a slow, shuddering breath. Brendon squeezed his hand.

“You know you don’t have to do this right now.”

Ryan pursed his lips. “It’s fine.”

He didn’t look fine. He looked like he was about to be sick, a sentiment Brendon could very much empathize with at the moment. “Okay. Well…” He hesitated, trying to figure out how to express what he needed to say in the little time they had left alone. “You know I’m not going to… judge you, or think less of you, or… Just, whatever happened. You don’t have to feel… ashamed.”

Ryan did look up at him then. There were tears in his eyes but they weren’t spilling over. He looked like he wanted to say something but he just chewed on his lower lip for a moment before turning his gaze back down toward his hands.

The door opened, their heads both snapping up to look at the wide-framed woman who walked through it. Brendon relaxed a little, relieved that they had been sent a female detective. The situation wasn’t exactly ideal regardless, but he doubted Ryan would have been more comfortable relaying his ordeal to a presumably-straight male cop.

The detective gave a smile that was neither obviously fake nor overly warm. “Hi. I’m Detective Mullins. You can call me Louisa though, if you like.” She took hold of one of the chairs near the door, pulling it a few inches closer to the bed as she pushed the door shut behind her with her other hand. She had a kind face, frizzy brown hair pulled back from it in a low ponytail.

“It’s Ryan, right?”

Ryan just nodded. He’d already looked away, back to staring blankly at his lap. Brendon realized the detective was looking at him now and flushed, clearing his throat. “I’m Brendon. I’m Ryan’s boyfriend.”

He said it without hesitation, but he noticed that Ryan winced a little at the words, eyes darting toward the detective for a moment as if he thought she might suddenly fling a bible toward his face. He patted Ryan’s knee through the blanket with his free hand.“We’re not really public about… We’re sort of, uh, high-profile, I guess, we’re… we’re in a band…” He trailed off lamely and glanced at Ryan. Ryan just nodded.

“I’ve already been informed of the sensitive nature of your case,” the detective said, hardly batting an eye at Brendon verbally tripping over himself. “Your manager -- Zack? -- was very thorough about all of that.”

Brendon nodded, not at all surprised that Zack had intercepted her arrival.

“So Ryan, I’m just here to take your statement, okay? We try to do it as soon as possible once a crime of this nature has been reported. So if you can, I just want you to tell me what happened, with whatever details you can remember. Just take your time.”

Ryan sucked in a deep breath, nodding down at his feet. Brendon felt the grip on his left hand tighten as Ryan opened his mouth to begin. “He was in the closet.” Suddenly he’d turned his eyes, wet and shining, on Brendon. “I should have checked. I always used to check.”

Brendon’s chest tightened. “You couldn’t have known, Ry. I didn’t check either, okay, how were you supposed to know?”

Ryan looked torn between arguing the point and forging forward, but seemed to remember there was a third party listening in and so continued, “He waited for Brendon to leave. I locked the door because I was going to change clothes and… he just appeared and I saw him walking toward me in the mirror and I just… froze.” Brendon could sense another apology coming, and sure enough: “If I had just… A few seconds and I could have made it to the door…”

Brendon shook his head. “It wasn’t your fault,” he reminded Ryan gently. He half-expected the detective to say something about him continuing to interject, but she seemed to realize that Ryan was speaking more to Brendon than he was to her and said nothing. Maybe Zack had said something to her earlier, maybe told her not to expect Ryan to open up without Brendon’s help. Or maybe she’d just been doing her job long enough to not have very rigid expectations.

Ryan looked down the fingers he had tightly wrapped around Brendon’s. “I did try to run,” he said quietly, after a moment’s pause. “It was too late, he was standing too close. He grabbed my arm and pushed me into the makeup counter. We were in the dressing room,” he added as an afterthought, for the detective’s sake. “He just kept talking. He does that. He knows it makes it harder for me to think.”

“What was he saying?” The detective asked gently, when Ryan fell silent for a moment.

Ryan glanced at Brendon, then looked away. “Shitty things about us, mostly. Just… taunting me.” He cleared his throat, a bit of red coloring his pale cheeks. Brendon kind of wanted to know what  _ exactly _ Liam had said so he could tell Ryan just exactly how incredibly awful and  _ wrong _ those things were, but at the same time, he already had a pretty good idea.

“He started… I saw in the mirror that he was… um. Pulling his jeans down. I hadn’t, uh, hadn’t been able to say anything but I panicked and I started begging him not to and he pushed my face into the counter. Hard enough to…” He gestured up toward his temple, Brendon’s eyes following the movement to the cut he’d noticed on the dressing room floor so many hours ago. He could feel an angry heat balling up in his stomach already and he tried to shove it away, knowing the rest of the story was a million times worse than what he’d already heard.

“I was only wearing my boxers, so. It wasn’t hard for him to…” Ryan’s voice, all hoarse and throaty still, had also now developed an edge to it, like he was trying very hard to disassociate his thoughts from the words coming out of his mouth, like maybe they wouldn’t really hurt leaving his lips if he could just force himself not to care. “He… forced it… in me.” The words were careful, shaky but also steeled, Ryan back to staring blankly off into space like he wasn’t even aware he was talking. “I was screaming. Making noise.” He swallowed. “Not supposed to do that.”

Brendon wanted to put his fist through the wall.

“He put the belt around my neck. Just kept… pulling.” The hand that wasn’t attached to Brendon’s rose to his neck, fingers absently tracing over the dark welts that were starting to show around his throat. “He scratched me up some while he was… doing it. On purpose. I couldn’t really…” He stopped, trembling a little. Brendon spotted a flare of panic behind the feigned blankness in Ryan’s eyes before he steadied himself. “I couldn’t move. Couldn’t breathe. I kept seeing it in… in the mirror.” He chewed on his lower lip for a moment. “He… finished.” Ryan closed his eyes. Brendon took a deep breath, fighting the nausea climbing up the back of his throat.

“He laughed at me some, made fun of me. I still couldn’t… I couldn’t move.” Ryan shook his head, jaw clenching in frustration. Brendon squeezed his hand, trying to let him know it was still okay. Ryan didn’t squeeze back. “I was just trying to get the belt off and breathe. Then he said he’d been planning on killing me but he’d decided to just kidnap me instead.”

Brendon was really starting to wish Zack hadn’t pulled him off Liam so soon.

“I just started… screaming. For help. I think I tried to… I got up, I guess I tried to run to the door. So he threw me on the floor. Kicked me, twice. Cracked a rib, dunno if the doctor said… I still had, uh, the belt…” He gestured at his neck again, eyes still closed, a frown painting his face. “He got on top of me and told me that was ‘it’ and he pulled the belt all the way again and I just… There was nothing else I could do.” Ryan shook his head. Brendon realized, with a deep, sinking feeling, that Ryan must have flat out resigned himself to dying in that moment. “Then it just… stopped. And Brendon was there.”

Ryan finally opened his eyes again. Brendon tried to smile when Ryan glanced at him for a moment, but fell a bit flat. He realized a few tears had broken loose and rolled down his face and he raised his free arm, impatiently wiping them onto his sleeve. Ryan hadn’t cried, though, which Brendon was trying not to be alarmed by, keeping in mind the eerie way Ryan had shut down that day after being pulled out of the dog cage. He was probably, Brendon reminded himself, trying to keep it together in the presence of a stranger. Trying to get through telling this awful story without breaking down and having it take twice as long and be twice as painful.

The detective was nodding. “I’m sorry that happened to you.”

Ryan’s jaw clenched. He didn’t reply.

“So Ryan,” -- he flinched at the use of his name, and Brendon recognized that she was just trying to be humanizing or whatever but he really wished she’d knock it off -- “you said a couple of things that led me to believe you knew your attacker?”

Brendon thought Ryan might shatter his teeth with how tightly his jaw was clamped. Several tense seconds passed, until Ryan forced out, “His name is Liam Page. He was… I dated him. For five months.”

“Recently?”

Ryan screwed his eyes shut. “Yes,” he managed, through gritted teeth. “November ‘til… uh, through March. This past March.”

“Had he ever expressed violence toward you or assaulted you before tonight?”

Ryan started shaking. Brendon desperately wanted to hop onto the side of the bed and wrap his arms around the other boy’s shoulders but he was afraid he might break whatever weird spell of faux calm Ryan had shrouded himself in. “Yes,” Ryan admitted, his voice wavering in time with his body’s tremors.

“Can you tell me about that?”

“I-I…” Ryan swallowed. “He would… hit me. Not at first. Later on. I…” Brendon could almost see Ryan fumbling for the words to express what had happened in the days before the tour began. “I tried to… uh, leave him. Three days before we went on tour. He was really… violent, I guess, that night. He threw things, shoved me around. I think he would have… tried more… like, um, tonight…”

A shudder passed through him. Brendon bit his lip. He hadn’t ever heard exactly what had happened that night, before Ryan had shown up on his doorstep. He’d just assumed it had been bad. “I mean he was… about to, for sure. I got away that time, though. I went to Brendon’s, I… spent the night there.” He flushed, deeper this time, and chanced a look toward the detective, as if waiting for her to connect the dots and start judging him for his life choices. She just looked back at him, waiting.

“I went home the next day and he was there. Waiting. He…” Ryan took a deep breath. He was nearing the end of his rope, Brendon could tell. It was too much, recounting all of these horrible things at once, lining them all up and winding every word into the most horrifying story possible, admitting to both a perfect stranger and the person he was closest to in the world all at once all of the worst things that had ever happened to him. Of course it was too much.

“He drugged me. I woke up in a dog cage with a shock collar around my neck and my hands taped behind my back and the window open and the heat off.” Ryan was rushing his words now. They tumbled over one another, threatening to twist his tongue into a knot as he hurried them off of it. “It was really cold that day, you know, cold front in LA, who would’ve thought, and I tried to ask what was going on and he pushed some button and the collar, you know, and it felt like I was being electrocuted and he said I wasn’t  _ allowed _ to talk or make any sounds, but then he pulled me halfway out, of the cage, y’know, a-and he put his fingers i-in… in me, real fast…”

He was starting to lose it. Brendon had tensed up, sick anticipation lurking in his gut. “I screamed, so then of course, the collar, again, th-then he put his mouth… on me… until I…” He took a couple of quick breaths. “Oh, god, until I… came. So I started crying, and… the collar… And then he just left me there, I guess that was in the evening, and then Brendon and Spencer and Jon found me but that was the next morning… it was so cold…”

The detective was frowning, trying to piece the end together herself when Ryan trailed off. “So did you all… go to the hospital, call the police?”

Ryan let out a sharp, barking laugh at that, and Brendon stiffened. He was well-versed enough in Ryan’s emotions at this point to know that they were now  _ incredibly _ close to Ryan completely losing it. And sure enough: “No,” he snapped. “No. We called Zack and then we packed up and went on tour because  _ I _ insisted. I decided not to deal with it because I wanted it to go away so we didn’t call the police because I was so fucking s- _ stupid _ \--”

And there it was. Brendon was on the bed in a flash, his body curling protectively around Ryan’s as Ryan dissolved into tears. “Is that enough? For now at least?” He asked the detective, looking at her over Ryan’s head as he wrapped his arms around Ryan’s shoulders.

She was already standing up, nodding back at him. “That’s all I need for now. I’ll keep you updated and come back if I need to know more.”

Brendon felt Ryan cringe at the thought of having to do this all over again. “Okay,” he told her anyway, waiting for her to leave before pressing his lips to the top of Ryan’s head. He didn’t say anything, just sat there and held onto Ryan while he cried.

It didn’t take long for the tears to die down. Ryan was too exhausted for a drawn out crying jag. Brendon smoothed the other boy’s hair down as he sniffled, staring down at his hands while they twisted the blanket.

“Is that it?” Ryan asked. His voice was nearly nonexistent now after all the talking and then the crying.

“Yeah,” Brendon murmured. “Here--” He reached toward the bedside table, picking up the plastic water pitcher sitting on top of it. He quickly filled a paper cup and held it out to Ryan. Ryan raised it to his lips with a shaking hand.

“Is it okay to sleep now?” he mumbled. Brendon took the empty cup and set it aside.

“Yeah.” He slid off the bed and fumbled with the controls until the bed began to recline itself with a dull, mechanic whine. Ryan lay flat, watching Brendon rearrange the blanket to cover his entire body.

“Bren.”

He was so quiet, already half-asleep, that Brendon had to lean in. “Yeah Ry.”

“I don’t wanna keep… talking to the police…” Ryan exhaled shakily. “I don’t want to be… ‘updated’... ‘less it’s good news…”

Brendon frowned, but nodded. “I’ll just tell Zack to handle it, okay? Like everything else we don’t wanna do.” He tried to smile.

Ryan yawned. “‘Kay.” He blinked a few times, eyes not seeming to want to stay closed despite how dead tired he appeared.

“Go to sleep,” Brendon said, his voice soft but firm. He slipped the fingers of his right hand between Ryan’s, sinking back into the chair he’d been seated in earlier. “I’ll be right here. It’s okay.”

Brendon could almost see Ryan’s disbelief in that statement spelled out in the air front of him.  _ Okay? Of course it’s not okay. Will ‘it’ ever be ‘okay’ again? _

But Ryan closed his eyes all the same, head tilting to the side a bit as his body relaxed. His breathing evened out within seconds as he slipped into sleep, leaving Brendon to watch over him with a troubled look on his face and an intensely sick feeling knotted in his stomach.

He sat there for awhile in silence. He didn’t move when he heard, however many minutes later, the door creaking open, though he tore his gaze away from Ryan long enough to see who was there. Spencer blinked back at him, eyes tired. “Hey,” he murmured, voice low. He glanced down at Ryan. “Is he…?”

“Asleep,” Brendon whispered back. His gaze traveled back down to Ryan’s chest, watching its slow rise and fall.

Spencer lingered near the door, hand still on the knob, holding it open a crack. “Can we… talk?”

Brendon nodded wearily and stood up, casting one last lingering look toward Ryan before following Spencer out of the room. He closed the door behind him as quietly as possible, hand not leaving the doorknob until he was sure it was shut all the way.

Spencer cleared his throat. “Do you want to… walk? Get a coffee?”

Brendon shook his head. “No. I can’t leave.”

“I could get Zack to come and--”

“No. I promised.” Brendon sagged against the wall of the hallway, three or four feet from the door. Spencer sighed and moved to stand next to him, leaning his own back against the hard surface.

“Where’s Jon?” Brendon asked, after a few seconds of silence.

“He’s taking care of all the unloading and getting the bus returned. Zack was going to do it but he thought it’d be better if he stayed here. Doing… damage control, or whatever, I guess…” Spencer made a short gesture with his hands, half-shrugging. “Talking to the doctors, cops. I don’t know.” Brendon just nodded. “Jon said he’d try to bring us all back some stuff, our overnight bags I guess… I told him I’d call when I knew how long Ryan might be here.” Brendon was still nodding, staring absently at the wall opposite them. “Bren?”

“Hmm?”

“How long do they think he’ll be here?” Brendon stopped nodding and glanced up at Spencer. “He’s… he’s okay, right? I mean, he will be? Right?”

There was a rough edge to Spencer’s voice. Brendon wasn’t sure he’d ever seen Spencer cry, but from his tone it sounded like he might be about to.

Brendon closed his eyes, exhaled, and turned back to face the other wall. “Yeah… they think so. He, um. One or two of his ribs is cracked. They think, anyway, I dunno, the doctor said he didn’t need to go to the trouble of getting an x-ray unless they don’t seem to be healing.”

“What does that mean?”

“Pain getting worse instead of better, I think, or moving to other places in his body.”

“What about…” Spencer hesitated. “Everything else?”

“He’s got bruises all over,” Brendon replied, his voice dull. “Cuts. Fucking fingernail scratches down his chest, handprints on his… his hips, god. And his neck…” He shook his head. “They said there doesn’t look like there’s permanent damage. For now. Because apparently no one can tell you anything about anything around here right away, I don’t know.” He shrugged, frustration creasing his brow. “He can still talk right now, though, so apparently that’s a good sign. He didn’t burst any blood vessels in his face or his eyes or anything, they said sometimes that can happen, so…” He shrugged again.

“What about…”

“Yeah. It’s not… not great.” Brendon sucked in a quick breath. “There’s… tearing.” They both winced at the word. “He’s… he’s in pain, but… there’s not really much they can do…” His voice cracked, and he paused for a minute, trying to collect himself. Spencer waited in silence for him to continue, eyes following the path of two nurses walking together further down the hallway. “They said, fucking surprise, that they  _ think _ he’s in the clear but we won’t  _ know _ for a few more fucking days. If those pass without him developing a fever, then apparently we’re good.”

“Why would he develop a fever?”

“Infection.” Brendon swallowed past the growing lump in his throat. “He could, um, apparently go into sepsis, if it’s really bad. There’s not much they can do to be… proactive, considering the… location…”

Spencer chewed on his lip. “And if he does? Develop a fever?”

Brendon shook his head. “I don’t… Surgery, maybe. It depends on… how bad…” He rubbed his hand over his face, taking a long, shaking breath to steady himself.

“Did they put him on anything? Meds?”

“Something for the pain. Doctor said it might make him a little out of it for awhile.”

Spencer nodded, slowly. “So is he… how does he… seem?”

Brendon frowned. “Like he’s in pain? I don’t… oh.” He stopped, realizing what Spencer meant. “I mean. He’s not good. Can’t really blame him, how could he be.”

“Yeah.” Spencer didn’t seem to know what else to say, even though he’d been the one who asked. He was quiet for a moment, then said, “Zack said if he’d gotten there any later he’d have been digging a grave for that bastard.”

Brendon’s jaw clenched. “Should’ve let me finish him off,” he muttered darkly, fingernails pressing into his palms.

Spencer frowned at him. “You might have gone to jail if it’d been any worse. Zack said you’re lucky he’s woken up already and the doctors haven’t found any permanent damage. If they had--”

Brendon was shaking his head. “No. He doesn’t  _ deserve _ to still be alive. That fucking…” He exhaled, hands shaking. “You didn’t hear what he  _ did _ , Spence…”

“No,” Spencer acknowledged. “I think I’ve got a pretty good idea, though.” Brendon just shook his head again in response. “You can’t possibly think you  _ should _ have killed him.”

“Seems like the least I could’ve done after not being there to stop him in the first place,” Brendon snapped. Spencer’s eyebrows raised into an  _ ah, there it is _ expression, and Brendon looked away, chest tightening. “At least then he’d be gone. We wouldn’t have to worry anymore…”

“And you might be in prison,” Spencer reminded him again. “How would you be of any help to Ryan from there?”

Brendon gave a short, bitter laugh through the tears that were beginning to choke him up. “Well, I obviously haven’t done that much good so far, have I?”

Spencer stared at him, eyes wide. “You really think--”

“What? That it’s my fault? I  _ left him _ , Spence. That piece of shit was waiting there, listening to our whole fucking conversation, just waiting for me to walk out, and I  _ did _ . Left him alone long enough to…” He shook his head, unable to continue. He’d started to cry, his shoulders shaking with the effort of suppressing the heavier sobs that threatened to break through. Spencer placed a firm hand on his shoulder, giving a gentle squeeze.

“How many times have you had to tell Ryan ‘it’s not your fault’?” he asked quietly. Brendon just shook his head. “Well, now  _ I’m _ telling  _ you _ . It’s not yours, either.”

“I was supposed to protect him,” Brendon bit out. “I  _ promised _ I would. And I fucking failed. So who am I to say I’m better off letting that piece of shit get back up on his feet to live another day, another day he could come after Ryan and possibly kill him this time, when I could have just stopped it forever with just a  _ few more minutes _ \--”

“Brendon.” Spencer’s tone was sharp. “I  _ know _ you’re not saying you think he’s better off without you. Nevermind the fucking cliche, it’s also just not true.”

“No, I -- god, no, I don’t…” Brendon hung his head, burying it in his hands for a few long moments. “What the fuck am I supposed to do now?” he said finally, the words, muffled behind his hands, breaking under the weight of his tears. “How do I… He’s so… I don’t…”

“This might be the last thing on your mind right now,” Spencer said, a hint of hesitance in his tone. “But you should remember that as traumatic as this is for Ryan, well… it’s traumatic for you, too.”

Brendon exhaled shakily. “I don’t care about that,” he replied, his voice flat. He rubbed his face a couple more times and lowered his hands, head sagging back against the wall with a dull thud. “I just want to help him,” he whispered. “But I don’t know… after all of this… god, I can’t fucking believe this happens  _ now _ , after everything, I mean, he… he was getting  _ better _ , Spence, he was so much better, h-he… and now, I don’t… I don’t know if…” He shook his head, unable to continue for the tears.

Then a small voice spoke up from behind them, the sound stabbing Brendon right through the chest: “I can still get better…”

He and Spencer both whirled around, the color draining from Brendon’s face. Neither of them had heard Ryan open the door to his room but there he was, clinging breathlessly to the doorframe, eyes stretched wide with panic.

“I got better before, I can do it again, I  _ will _ do it again, I promise, I--”

“Oh, Ry,” Brendon murmured, reaching for him. “Hey--”

“I can make it all like it was before, I-I can, p-please, please… don’t leave…”

Brendon’s hand flew to his mouth as he realized the conclusions Ryan must have drawn from overhearing what he’d just said. “Oh… oh, god, Ryan, that’s not what I… Come here, come here…” He wrapped his fingers around Ryan’s arm, gently peeling him off the doorframe. “Let’s get you back in bed. Come on.”

He glanced over his shoulder at Spencer, who was watching with a pinched look on his face. Brendon just shook his head a little and slipped his arm around Ryan’s shoulders, guiding him back into his room and nudging the door shut behind them.

“I thought you were asleep,” he murmured, as he eased them both into a sitting position on the bed.

Ryan looked down at his hands.”You left,” he mumbled.

Guilt stabbed at Brendon’s chest. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, voice cracking. “I didn’t mean to scare you. Spencer wanted to talk and I thought…” He sighed. Ryan was staring at the floor, fingers curled tightly over his kneecaps -- probably trying to hide the fact that he was shaking a little. “Those things I was saying… I didn’t mean for it to sound like…”  _ Like…? Like you’d rather be in prison than helping your boyfriend heal from being raped and nearly murdered by the same monster who’s been making his life a living hell for months? You fucking idiot. Of course that’s what it sounded like. _

Ryan’s lower lip quivered. “I can be better,” he whispered. “I can--”

“Shh,” Brendon murmured. “You don’t have to do anything to make me stay, Ry. I’m so, so sorry that’s what it sounded like I was saying.” He scooped one of Ryan’s hands up between both of his own, holding it against his own chest. “I’m not going  _ anywhere _ . I’m gonna be right here. I  _ swear _ .”

Ryan bit his lip, still looking anxious and not entirely convinced. He leaned into the touch, though, when Brendon moved one of his hands to the side of Ryan’s face, cupping his cheek in his palm. He looked as though he could fall asleep that way, sitting upright and leaning into Brendon’s hand. Brendon’s own head was buzzing with exhaustion, spinning itself in frenzied circles trying to figure out how to convince Ryan he meant what he was saying.

“We can talk about it more later,” Brendon said softly, echoing his own words from earlier that night. “You  _ really _ need to rest, Ry. Let’s go to sleep now, okay? For real this time.”

Ryan looked up at him for the first time since they re-entered the room. “Will you… stay with me?”

Brendon flashed back to the first night of tour in their hotel room, Ryan pulling tentatively at his wrist, blinking up at him from the bed.

_ Bren? _

_ Yeah, Ry. _

_ Stay with me? _

_ Always. _

He leaned forward and pressed his lips to Ryan’s forehead. “Of course I will,” he whispered back. “Always.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ugggh I know right these poor CHILDREN I just want to HUG THEM
> 
> I just got all of the THROAM books in like physical copies and read the first one so, maybe those are helping me access more deeply everyone's super dramatic emotions lol. maybe not though because as I was telling my friend last night after finishing Book One - omg I like hate all of the characters in THROAM because they're like ALL terrible people ashjdsgdkl except for throam!Brendon ofc, there is only ONE Good Boy!! ugh anyway so yeah that's a thing. I'll probably start Book Two tonight so the next update can also be accompanied with furious throam rants lmao.
> 
> anyways felt more confident about this chapter so hope it made u all cry like it made ME cry but not too much because I love you all and don't want you to be too sad xoxo see you soon, don't forget to comment so my heart can swell three sizes knowing you're all still here <3


	15. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> heeeeellooooo, my lovelies! sorry for the extended time between updates after getting the last few to you so quick, this one for some reason was really hard to write and I've had kind of a busy / mentally draining past couple of weeks as well.
> 
> ******this entire paragraph is me talking about THROAM lmao just a warning******  
> also I was a little distracted for some of that finally reading all of the THROAM books as I mentioned at the end of the last chapter. if you've never read THROAM but have been on tumblr etc and seen all the like "omg throam ruined my life" / "omg throam gave me an existential crisis" posts, well, you may be like "lmao a story can't send you into a literal downward spiral existential crisis" but... omg bitch it CAN like I literally was snapchatting my best friend who is my only friend who is also clued into bandom / band lore and was like live-snapping my experience because omg even though I started the series hating almost everyone in it and didn't really stop hating everyone in the series until halfway through book three I literally couldn't stop reading and literally like bawled my eyes out while reading on multiple occasions and then had a couple of days where I was like NOTHING I WRITE WILL EVER GIVE ANYONE AN EXISTENTIAL CRISIS LIKE THIS BOOK GAVE ME and then OMG I NEED TO READ IT AGAIN (I haven't done that yet because I realized lmao I need to calm down before I literally never end up working on my own story again bc I'm too busy memorizing this FUCKING FANFIC SERIES) and also even though the Ryden relationship throughout the series is the most unhealthy thing I've ever fucking seen for most of it I still ended up like IF I DON'T HAVE A LOVE LIKE THIS THEN I DON'T WANT ONE AT ALL so that's... interesting??? idek ya'll the POINT of this madwoman-esque rambling I suppose is that THROAM is great but you should never read it unless you're into having your life ruined. and I'm a total slut for having my life ruined so I give it 10/10 and now understand why it is the most famous patd fanfic out there.
> 
> okay anyway!!! sorry for the rambles let's get back to the ACTUAL story you came for lmao

He ended up cramming himself into the narrow hospital bed, taking care to arrange his various limbs and parts around Ryan in a way that would least disturb his injuries while he slept. He doubted at that point, however, that Ryan would have voiced a mere note of discomfort even if Brendon’s elbow somehow ended up jabbed against his cracked rib for the entire night.

They finally settled with Ryan’s back pressed flat to Brendon’s chest, Brendon lying half-underneath him with one arm tucked under his neck and the other draped lightly over his midsection, fingers lightly tangled between Ryan’s. Only then did Brendon feel Ryan’s heartbeat start to slow down, as if he was convincing himself that Brendon couldn’t possibly disappear again without him waking up to notice.

He didn’t fall asleep right away, though. Brendon laid awake for the longest time, listening to Ryan’s ragged breathing start to smooth out, until all of the sudden he’d give the smallest of jolts, his breath catching in the base of his throat and his hand squeezing around Brendon’s like he didn’t expect it to still be there. Then he’d exhale, shaking a little, and Brendon would just shush him softly under his breath, run his thumb along Ryan’s knuckles until he felt Ryan relax again.

This happened at least five times, maybe six, the ambient guilt lurking in Brendon’s stomach growing more pronounced on each occasion. Finally though,  _ finally _ , Ryan’s breaths  _ stayed _ evenly drawn and his eyelids stayed shut and his loose grip on Brendon’s hand didn’t suddenly become a death clamp.

Brendon still didn’t sleep, though, not for hours at least. He watched the slow rise and fall of Ryan’s chest and allowed the burning contrition in his gut full access to the rest of his body, until it burned through him like a flame. Ryan thought he was going to leave, no, was  _ petrified _ he was going to leave, and though even the mere notion had not  _ once _ crossed Brendon’s mind, it was also one hundred percent his fault that Ryan had jumped to that conclusion. Stupid, so fucking stupid. He should have known better than to say all those things, to let himself spiral like that when Ryan  _ needed _ him, fucking needed him to be strong right now, not wander off bitching his brains out to Spencer. God, he was so stupid.

He stayed awake for a good while, mind racing to think of all the things he’d say when Ryan woke up, all of the ways he could convince Ryan that he was never,  _ ever _ going to leave him alone in this big awful world. Because he fucking meant that, regardless of how what he’d said earlier - fuck, he didn’t even fully remember what he said earlier, that was the worst part of it, that to him, it had all just been some meaningless emotional outburst - regardless of how it had sounded to Ryan, to Spencer, to himself even. To be without Ryan, well. He was pretty sure he’d rather be dead than be without Ryan.

After some god-awful number of hours passed, the sun just peeking through the cheap blinds pulled down over the room’s lone window, he began to doze off a bit. He never once, however, fell into a full, deep slumber. It was as if his brain could sense whenever he was about to enter a more restful stage of sleep and would at once shock him back out of it. Because what if Ryan woke up, panicked, and Brendon wasn’t awake to immediately calm him down, or maybe he’d be having one of those dreams he couldn’t wake up from and the longer Brendon stayed asleep the longer Ryan would remain trapped inside the nightmare, or what if -- worst of all -- somehow, the unthinkable happened, and the door creaked open and in slipped not Spencer or Zack or Jon, not another doctor or nurse or detective, but  _ him _ , with his evil eyes and evil hands and evil intentions all focused on Ryan as he stepped closer to the bed, and Ryan’s eyes would flutter open just in time to see while Brendon slept on unaware--

So no, Brendon didn’t really get that much sleep.

Ryan did, though, and Brendon felt his relief growing, pushing away his burning guilt with each passing hour as Ryan remained still, calm, peaceful, asleep in his arms. There would be so much time for Brendon to rest later, after all. Later, when they were back in his apartment sharing a decent-sized bed, no longer under constant assault from the clinical smell of the hospital -- and fuck, Brendon hadn’t ever given it much thought but  _ the scent of dead skin on the linoleum floor _ , that really was what hospitals smelled like and today, fuck did he ever notice -- when the chance of any fever or worsening symptoms had long since passed, when Liam was finally behind bars and they’d never, ever have to worry about him ever again. Later. That’s when he’d get a good night’s sleep.

Ryan slept for a long time. Only when it reached the point of Brendon starting to worry that maybe he’d slept  _ too _ long -- because the sunlight sure was streaming in now and the nurse had already crept in and out once or twice, casting him a curious glance before he silently shooed her back out with a pointed stare -- only then did he feel Ryan start to stir.

Long exhale, slow stretch. Sharp breath, scrunched facial features when he twisted his torso a bit too far. Brendon winced a bit, imagining the jolt of pain through Ryan’s ribcage. Ryan’s eyes flickered open, squinting while he soaked in his surroundings, and he turned his head just enough to blink up at Brendon, who had propped himself up on one elbow. “Hey,” Brendon murmured, feeling Ryan’s fingers curl around his again. Ryan’s expression was slack, unreadable, for a few seconds, then something changed, like he was suddenly reminded of something he didn’t quite enjoy the thought of. 

“Whoa, hey, hang on,” Brendon protested as Ryan struggled to push himself into an upright position, a grimace painting his face at the extra strain on his already-aching body. Brendon sat all the way up and reached behind him, fumbling for the controls to the hospital bed. His finger found the button and the top half began its incline. Ryan gave up, breathing out shakily and letting his back rest against the mattress again. Brendon turned around and crossed his legs, rearranging his perch on the bed to face Ryan. Ryan watched wordlessly as Brendon leaned over and poured him a cup of water, accepted and drank when Brendon held it out to him, watched Brendon’s hands as he took the cup back and set it aside.

Brendon chewed his lower lip, feeling the silence, heavy and stiff, settling over them. His mind was racing, his heartbeat speeding up to join it, as he tried to figure out how to start, how to even begin to express all of the thoughts he’d spent the whole night dwelling upon. His eyes traveled up while he pondered it, to Ryan’s neck, the bruises that had turned horrifying shades of purple and deep blue while they slept. Ryan saw him looking and cringed, ducking his head.

Shit. He still wasn’t sure what he was going to say but now he felt like he had to say something regardless. “Ry--”

“I’m sorry.” His voice was quiet but didn’t shake and Brendon heard it and paused, brow furrowing. “For last night,” Ryan elaborated, before Brendon could jump back in. “I…” His fingers curled around the sheets, crumpled up around his knees. He squeezed his eyes shut, like whatever was about to come out of his mouth was going to be the hardest thing he ever had to say, and Brendon already wanted to tell him no, stop talking, whatever it is, it’s all right, you’ve just misunderstood is all, but -- “It’s too much. I know that. I know that if you decided… I can’t  _ make _ you s-stay--” He faltered for a moment, his voice breaking, but he collected himself in milliseconds and pushed on: “It’s not fair, I know that, to expect--”

“Stop,” Brendon whispered. He felt tears pooling up in his eyes as he stared, disbelieving and sad, at Ryan. “I’m -- I’m not--” He reached for Ryan’s hands, Ryan flinching as Brendon gently pried the bedsheets from his tight grasp. He laced all of their fingers together, clutching both of Ryan’s hands between his own. “God, I’m -- Ryan I’m--” His throat had clenched up, his mouth was so dry, fuck. He swallowed a couple of times, trying to collect himself. “What you heard last night was… stupid venting, me being exhausted and frustrated and… and scared,” he admitted, “so fucking scared for you, okay, and -- and nothing else. I’m not going anywhere. I’m  _ not _ .”

Ryan stared down at the floor. “If you decided, though, that it was too much, I would… I understand,” he said, his words guarded and stilted and careful and  _ fucking terrible _ , and Brendon felt a couple of tears spill over and trail down his face.

“Look at me,” he whispered, tugging at Ryan’s hands. Ryan bit his lip, looking as though that was the last thing he wanted to do, like it might just be all over the moment he did, and Brendon was starting to feel like he couldn’t breathe for some reason. “Ryan,  _ look _ at me,” he demanded again, a hint of desperation having crept into his tone.

Ryan looked up then, eyes meeting Brendon’s, saw the tears, the complete vulnerability, the desperate sadness. He bit down on his lower lip, tears springing into his own eyes, but he didn’t look away, and Brendon took a deep, shaking breath.

“Listen, just… listen, I…” He let go of one of Ryan’s hands and reached up, catching the first tear that escaped Ryan’s eye on his thumb. “Just… stop all that nonsense for a minute and just, just listen to me, okay? Like. Really listen. Okay?” He wasn’t sure why he was using twice as many words as he actually needed to get the point across. Ryan nodded a little, blinking a few more tears out of his eyes but still watching Brendon’s face.

“Okay. Okay.” Brendon paused for a moment, lining up his thoughts before they all spilled out in the wrong order. “Alright. So I don’t care how… dramatic or cheesy this sounds, because I mean it, okay, I… Literally, in my brain, everything that has happened to me, in my whole life, is separated into two parts. Two parts. Before you, and after. Before I met Ryan Ross, and everything after the moment I laid eyes on Ryan Ross.”

Ryan was really crying now, and Brendon kind of was, too, but mostly he was trying to finish what he was trying to say before he fell apart, so he barreled on: “And now, now that second part, it gets its own separation, you know -- before we were together, and after. And that last one, that’s… that’s my favorite. Favorite part.” He raised Ryan’s hand to his lips, covering up the sound of his voice breaking with a short kiss to Ryan’s knuckles.

“So,” he continued after a moment’s pause, brushing more tears from Ryan’s face with his free hand, though they were coming too fast now for him to wipe them all away, “how could I  _ ever _ go back to how it was before? I don’t… I  _ can’t _ . I can’t. Ry, fuck, you’re all that I want, I think about having to live my life without you in it and it  _ physically hurts _ , so I… I don’t care what’s happened, nothing’s changed for me, nothing. I-I… How could I leave? How could I…”

Ryan was shaking his head, looking frantic. “I didn’t mean… I don’t  _ want _ you to--”

“No, I know that. I know.” He gave Ryan’s hand a gentle squeeze. “But I never want you to think that it’s… unfair, or something, that I might decide to just give up and leave someday. I don’t want you to be afraid of that. And I know--” He added, as Ryan opened his mouth to protest, “I know it’s not just about me, you being scared that I might. I know that. But I… I want you to understand that… I need you too.” He closed his eyes, trying to suppress the sob that suddenly rose from his throat, but to no avail, because those four words had suddenly sparked a snowball of intrusive thoughts in his brain -- Ryan could have died, could have  _ died _ , he almost lost him for good, he almost…

He felt the mattress dip as Ryan scooted closer and he opened his eyes, about to tell him to stop, stop that, he’d hurt himself, he needed to rest. The words died on his lips when he saw the way Ryan was looking at him, his wide, tear-flooded eyes heavy with a desperate sort of guilt, as if he’d just seen Brendon get clocked in the face and done nothing to stop it. Brendon rearranged himself, closing the rest of the small distance still separating their bodies, and Ryan wrapped his arms around Brendon’s waist.

“I’m sorry,” he heard Ryan whisper, and he was already shaking his head, locating his own ability to speak again at the sound of those two words, those two words that sparked another flood of guilt and shame and fear.

“Don’t, don’t say that, you  _ have _ to  _ stop _ saying that.”

He felt Ryan pull back a bit, alarmed at the sudden bite to his words. “I--”

“No! No, you can’t keep saying it, because  _ I _ am,  _ I’m _ the one who’s sorry, it’s… it’s  _ my _ fault, it’s  _ my _ \-- I just walked away, and I almost -- you could have died, you could have…” Ryan had pulled him as close as he could and Brendon bowed his head, resting his forehead against Ryan’s shoulder. “I almost lost you, what would I have done, I almost… god, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry…”

Ryan held him close, letting Brendon cry against his shoulder for several long minutes. Brendon felt Ryan’s fingers in his hair and focused on the feeling as he tried to calm down.

“I’m still here,” Ryan said eventually, his voice soft, cracking under the weight of his own tears.

“Thank god,” Brendon managed to choke out. He raised his head, Ryan’s hand moving from the back of his neck to the side of his face. His eyes found Ryan’s and the spinning in his head, the lurching in his gut, stopped for a moment. Ryan had calmed down a bit as well and was gazing at him with a solemn look on his face, eyes still brimming with tears.

“If it’s not my fault,” he began carefully, “then it can’t be yours, either.”

Brendon immediately wanted to argue, and he almost did, but the rational part of his brain, the one that had woken up when he’d turned his eyes back toward Ryan’s, knew better, knew Ryan was right. It wasn’t Ryan’s fault, and that much had always been obvious to Brendon. So in the same sense, if Ryan placed zero blame on Brendon’s shoulders…

“It’s  _ his _ fault,” Ryan said then, flinching a little but holding Brendon’s gaze. “I won’t say it’s mine, and you won’t say it’s yours, and we’ll just both say that… that’s the only person we’re allowed to blame anymore. Okay?”

Brendon felt himself nodding. “Okay,” he whispered. His fingers found a lock of Ryan’s hair to toy with, winding in and out of the short strands. Ryan looked as though he was hesitating, deciding whether or not to say something else.

“I know I’ve said this before,” he said finally, caution in his tone, words still a bit shaky, throat still a bit scratchy and sore, “but… you can’t just pretend to be keeping it together all of the time just so I won’t get upset.”

“I remember,” Brendon said. He wasn’t sure what else to say, but Ryan had paused like he expected a response, or maybe a protest. It had been easier then, easier to stomach his own anxieties when the stage and the people screaming in front of it didn’t seem so daunting anymore, once he had experienced the bone-chilling fear of fearing for Ryan’s life. Forgetting that fear was a different story altogether, but still, he’d managed. Now, though, now there were so many more nightmares to be had, so many more horrifying images burned into his brain to invade his thoughts when he wasn’t expecting them, the fresh terror of once again fearing for Ryan’s life that his entire body would never forget the feeling of, and he could still see his feet moving, his hands reaching out, hoping, praying he wasn’t too late…

“Bren?”

Brendon blinked, Ryan’s face coming back into focus. He sucked in a shuddering breath and breathed it back out. His brain registered the feeling of fresh tears on his face and he raised a shaking hand to wipe them away.

Ryan was watching him, brow furrowed with worry. Brendon just nodded, hoping that would suffice as response to what Ryan had said earlier. He wrapped his arms around Ryan’s shoulders, holding him as tightly as he dared for fear of hurting him. He bowed his head, forehead and bridge of his nose resting against the top of Ryan’s head, and took a few deep breaths. The faint but ever-present, always-familiar scent of Ryan’s hair, half shampoo and half just  _ him _ , wrapped itself around Brendon’s senses, soothing him. He pressed his lips to Ryan’s skull, just above his ear, strands of Ryan’s hair tickling his nostrils.

“I won’t pretend,” he murmured, “if you won’t.” He slid his fingers in between Ryan’s. “I don’t want you to feel like you have to put on some sort of brave face for me or, I don’t know, pretend you’re… recovering, from all of this, faster than you actually are. I don’t want you to do that.”

“Okay,” Ryan said quietly. He raised their intertwined hands, pressing Brendon’s against his chest and Brendon felt, just barely, the soft thumping of Ryan’s heart against his knuckles. The remaining pent-up tension drained from his body as his brain focused on that gentle throbbing, the subtle reminder that Ryan was still here, still alive, and Brendon was right here sitting next to him.

And now, despite all of the times he’d said the words to Ryan since he’d busted through that dressing room door, he was actually starting to feel like everything was going to be okay.

-

Except.

_ Except. _

Ryan spiked a fever.

He was fine when they went to sleep, Brendon could have sworn by it. Granted, his temperature hadn’t been checked since the late afternoon when the nurse came to administer more pain medication, but still. He was fine  _ then _ , and he seemed fine when he laid down next to Brendon and pressed up against him and hummed softly under his breath when Brendon kissed his temple.

But Brendon had been jolted out of his light, restless slumber several hours later, confused and immediately apprehensive, by thrashing movements against him, and as he shook himself fully awake he realized that Ryan had untangled himself from Brendon’s arms and climbed halfway out of the bed already.

“Ry?” He reached out toward the other boy. “What’s wrong?”

Ryan didn’t seem to hear him. For a moment, the only sound was his heavy breathing as he sat on the edge of the bed, his back to Brendon. Then his feet hit the floor.

“Whoa, Ryan--” Brendon scrambled to the edge of the mattress and pushed himself off. “What are you--” Ryan managed two shaky steps before his knees buckled. Brendon flung out his arms, catching Ryan by both of his elbows. “Okay, let’s get back in bed, okay? Okay, come here…” He tried to tug Ryan closer, but Ryan had started shaking his head.

“No, no,” he mumbled under his breath. “No, I gotta… gotta get out of here, gotta…” He flinched as Brendon turned him around, tried to walk him back toward the bed. “Can’t be here, he’ll be so mad, he’ll be…”

Brendon frowned. “Who? What are you talking about?” Ryan just shook his head and continued to mumble to himself, eyes glassy and bouncing back and forth between the wall and the floor. Brendon felt his insides twist into a knot as he suddenly realized how warm Ryan’s arms were beneath his fingers, the heat he felt radiating off of Ryan’s skin.

“Ryan?” he murmured. “Ry. Are you awake? Do you know where you are?”

“Mmm…” Ryan flinched again at the feeling of Brendon’s palm against his forehead. “I’m… Hospital. Gotta… he can’t know, he can’t, I can’t, if he…” Ryan suddenly reached up and grabbed Brendon’s arm with both hands. His eyes, now stretched wide with confusion, flicked up to meet Brendon’s for just a second. Then he burst into tears.

“Fuck,” Brendon muttered under his breath. “Fuck, okay Ryan, okay, one sec, just, stay here--” He untangled himself from Ryan’s grasp and quickly crossed the floor to the other side of the room, yanking the door open. “Hey, can we get some help in here, can we -- can someone,  _ please _ \--”

He had a temperature of 101.

The nurse told Brendon it wasn’t that high. Not high enough to be seriously worried, not high enough to assume the worst right off the bat.

High enough to put an IV in Ryan’s arm. High enough for new meds.

High enough that Brendon couldn’t breathe.

Ryan went back to sleep almost immediately after the nurse left the room. Brendon didn’t think he’d ever sleep again.

He perched in the chair at the edge of the bed, fingers gripping tight handfuls of the sheets Ryan was sleeping beneath. He couldn’t look away from Ryan’s face, the beads of sweat that had pooled above his upper lip, along his brow, even as he shivered in his sleep beneath the weight of the blankets on top of him.

The door closed and Brendon’s head jerked up. He locked gazes with Spencer long enough to take in the exhaustion and poorly-hidden stress painting the other man’s face before turning back to Ryan. Spencer stood near the doorway for a moment, following Brendon’s eyes to Ryan’s still form, before grabbing a chair and pulling it up next to Brendon’s. Brendon was silent as Spencer sat down, chewing at one of the fingernails on his left hand while he watched Ryan sleep.

“How bad is it?” Spencer’s voice was quiet, so not to disturb Ryan.

Brendon shook his head. “It’s… not  _ great _ ,” he murmured, his words matching Spencer’s in volume. The nurse had said Ryan would fall into a much deeper sleep on the new medication, but Brendon still didn’t want to risk disturbing his rest. “They said his body is probably… fighting the beginning of an infection or… something? I don’t…” He rubbed his knuckles across his tired eyelids. “The fever apparently isn’t high enough to worry the doctors too much right now. So he’s on new meds to help fight, or I guess maybe prevent, infection right now, and we just… hope the fever goes down in the next day or so.”

“And if it doesn’t?”

Brendon’s jaw clenched. He shook his head again. “Then, I guess, we actually get to be worried.” His tone was dry, sarcastic, but his words were anxious, shaky. Spencer didn’t reply for a few minutes.

“I need to talk to you about what you said the other night.”

Brendon’s eyes narrowed. “And right now seems like a good time for that?”

“No, but I’m going to do it anyway.” Brendon huffed and sat back in his chair, but didn’t reply. “Look, okay -- I was thinking about it today and I realized I didn’t know how much you actually know about how Ryan’s life was before the band.”

“With his dad?” Brendon felt his stomach clench. “I think I’ve got the gist of it.”

Spencer shook his head. “There’s more to it than what Ryan will talk about. Or the things he hasn’t been able to keep from getting out.” Spencer cast a quick look in Ryan’s direction, checking to make sure Ryan was still asleep before he began to elaborate. “Obviously, you know his dad wasn’t…”

“A decent human being?”

Spencer sighed. “He was an alcoholic for pretty much Ryan’s entire life. He’d go through phases of having it more under control and then he’d go completely off the deep end for awhile, go on benders… once Ryan was able to drive he’d start calling Ryan, like, while we were  _ in school _ , to come pick him up from places where he’d end up drunk or stranded. Or he’d hurt himself somehow while he was drunk, or maybe drink too much, and then Ryan would have to go pick him up from the hospital. He was… he was almost completely dependent on Ryan most of the time, and then he’d just turn around and beat the shit out of him. Ryan  _ never _ talked about it, never admitted it, but I saw the bruises, I knew. And my mom, she wasn’t fully clued in, but she knew something wasn’t right, and she’d try to get Ryan to sleep over, or have dinner with us at least, as much as she could. And he would always,  _ always _ hesitate, like he wasn’t sure that it was okay for him to accept us caring and trying to take care of him. And he’d sit at our table and eat like he hadn’t had a meal in days because his dad would spend all of their money on alcohol--”

“What is the point of this story?” Brendon interrupted. His fingers had curled into tight fists at some point and he wasn’t sure how much more of it he wanted to hear, especially since it seemed to be turning from a story with an actual point to Spencer babbling about how broken of a teenager Ryan had been.

“The point is that he never did anything about it. His dad would hit him, push him around, and he’d still go and pick him up from places and try to take care of him, and he never talked about it. There were a couple of times I asked about it and he started  _ crying _ , he was so upset, and he still refused to admit what was going on. Then this one time, his dad just left. Actually -- that was right after you joined Panic, like… yeah, maybe a couple of weeks after -- His dad just vanished. There was no phone call asking to be picked up, no explanation, and Ryan sat in that hole of a house waiting for him to come back for  _ three days _ , and… nothing. So we have band practice that day, right, and after you and Brent leave he turns to me and just goes, ‘I think my dad left’. And he just breaks down. His mom was already gone, obviously, she left when he was just a little kid, and I guess his dad leaving too was just… terrifying, I don’t know. But he was. He was terrified. And I just stood there trying to calm him down while thinking, like a total asshole, that maybe this was a good thing, and we could take him in now and actually make sure he didn’t starve or get sent to the hospital himself and might eventually understand how people who actually care about you are  _ supposed _ to act.”

“His dad came back, though,” Brendon said quietly. He knew it had to be true, because he remembered the day after Pete said he wanted to sign them and they’d all four discussed it and fought with their parents over it -- he remembered Ryan’s split lip, the bruise on his jaw when he showed up at Spencer’s, half an hour late, the way he’d spoken with Spencer in low tones in the doorway, eyes flicking nervously between Spencer’s face to where Brendon and Brent were sitting on the couch, how he’d flinched when Spencer put a hand on his shoulder and for the rest of the day acted as stiff and closed off as he possibly could. Then they left to record the album and for the next two years or so until they all had their own apartments, Ryan stayed at Spencer’s when they came home from recording or tour, not his own house. And Brendon had known, and what he hadn’t known, he’d just assumed.

“Yes,” Spencer said, though Brendon had been stating a fact more so than he’d been asking if it were true. “But not for three more days. And Ryan camped out in that empty house the entire fucking time, and then… god, it was fucked up, he called me and told me his dad was back, and he sounded _so_ _relieved_.”

“Well, yeah. Because obviously he hadn’t come up with some master plan on how to pay the bills and take care of himself and deal with being out-and-out abandoned.” Brendon frowned at Spencer. “I still don’t understand why you’re telling me all of this right now.” Because now he was thinking about how Ryan had almost fallen apart during that one interview where they took his phone away because the hospital still hadn’t called and updated him on his dad’s condition, how they’d all gone with Ryan to the funeral, how he’d stood next to Ryan and watched his face the whole time, slightly contorted on the verge of tears but not once letting a single one fall from his eyes. Obviously Ryan’s relationship with his dad was fucked up, but Ryan still loved him and hadn’t tried to leave or tell anyone even after his own father had started beating him up--

Oh.

“Right. So your point is he let Liam…” --  He closed his eyes briefly, not really wanting to elaborate on just what exactly Liam had gotten away with in the time he’d been with Ryan -- “Basically you’re saying his dad fucked him up to the point where he thought it was normal for people who claimed to care about him to also want to hurt him, which is why Liam kept getting away with it. I mean I could have told  _ you _ that.”

“Yes, but also…” Spencer hesitated. “When he heard you last night, and he just freaked out--”

“He’s still terrified of being abandoned. Yeah, Spence, I get that.” Brendon ran his fingers through his hair, frustrated. “Trust me, I know. He let Liam hurt him because he didn’t think he was worth not being hurt and even when he didn’t want to be with him anymore he was still scared of him leaving and it all traces back to the shit with his dad. And all that has translated into him being scared I’m going to leave, too.  _ Trust _ me. I know.”

“Okay, but what you were saying the other night, it really  _ did _ sound like…”

“Like  _ what? _ ” Brendon challenged, glaring at him when he didn’t finish the sentence.

Spencer hesitated, something unreadable flickering in his eyes. “Like he might have a real reason to be worried.”

Brendon’s expression went slack with disbelief. “Are you--” He sat back in his chair, shaking his head. After a couple of seconds, his shock was replaced with a surge of anger. “Okay, no. Fuck this, no. I have already had to sit here and convince  _ him _ that I’m not going anywhere, and for chrissakes, it should have been crystal clear that I was upset the other night, and seeing as you were the one standing there bullshitting me about how I needed to get my  _ own _ feelings out about the situation--”

“I wasn’t bullshitting you!”

“Then stop bullshitting me now!” Brendon hissed, struggling to still keep his voice lowered. “How is this even a  _ question _ in your mind? How can you watch me sit here beside him wringing my fucking hands and still think I’ve got some evil plan to run away when everyone least expects it?”

“Bren--”

“No, Spence! Just stop, fucking stop, I -- god dammit, _I_ _love him_ , I’ve always fucking loved him, and the fact that you can sit here questioning my intentions while I’m sitting watching him try to sweat a fucking fever out before he has to have some fucking surgery or god knows what else happens…” Brendon trailed off, shaking his head helplessly before burying his face in his palms, tears starting to leak from eyes. He felt Spencer’s hand on his back as his shoulders began to shake with silent sobs.

“I’m sorry,” Spencer said quietly. “I didn’t… I shouldn’t have. I know.” Brendon just shook his head again, his only reply a quiet sniffle between sobs. “I just have this instinct now to wonder, because of watching him with his dad, and… it had faded so much over the past couple of years that I completely missed what was going on with Liam, and I’ve literally been kicking myself over it for months, I can’t… I can’t  _ believe _ I missed it, you know? After all of that when we were kids and I still…”

“I missed it too,” Brendon murmured, most of the anger having faded from his voice, which now shook beneath the weight of his tears. “If I had noticed any later…”

“We can’t think like that.”

Brendon laughed, short and mirthless, under his breath. “Yeah. That’s what he said. And yet…”

“He’s gonna be okay,” Spencer whispered. He sounded like he was telling himself just as much as he was Brendon. Not entirely convinced, Brendon nodded anyway, raising his tear-filled eyes once more to Ryan’s sleeping form. He reached out, lightly covering Ryan’s hand with his own. Ryan didn’t stir, just kept breathing softly, chest rising and falling as he slept on.

“What would I do without him?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay so lots of heavy emotional stuff in this chapter so y'all can maybe see why it took me a little longer now, idk I kept going back and changing the exchanges between B and Ry and then the argument between Spence and B, and idk as per usual I'm still not 100% happy with it but tbh it is what it is at this point and I just wanna keep going after finally hammering the rest of this chapter out today. so hopefully I'll see you guys again SOONER this time.
> 
> as always thanks for reading and please comment if you enjoyed it or if you cried / got angry and want to yell at me about it either way xoxo


	16. Chapter 15

Brendon woke to the feeling of fingers in his hair. He groaned a little under his breath, feeling the scratchy hospital sheets beneath his right cheek, the ache in his back from sleeping in a chair bent over the side of Ryan’s bed all night. His eyes blinked open, squinting against the mixture of sun and fluorescent lighting flooding the room. After a moment Ryan’s face came into focus. His face was pale, a bit drawn, still glazed with a thin layer of hours-old sweat, and dark circles rimmed his eyes even though he’d slept soundly through the night. His lips were turned up ever so slightly at the corners though, despite his worn appearance, and the tender look in his eyes warmed Brendon to his core as his body and brain slowly dragged themselves out of their half-asleep haze.

“You’re beautiful,” Ryan murmured, his tiny smile growing just a bit wider when Brendon couldn’t suppress a tired grin in response.

“Not as beautiful as you,” Brendon replied softly, catching Ryan’s hand in his and pulling it down from his hair. He planted a soft kiss on the inside of Ryan’s wrist. “How are you feeling?”

“Mmm… feel funny,” Ryan mumbled, his words slow, sleepy-sounding. “Am I on new meds now?” His gaze shifted from Brendon’s face to his other arm, like he was noticing it for the first time. “I’ve got an IV.”

“Uh… yeah, you do.” Brendon sat up, brow creasing with worry. “Do you remember last night at all?”

“Last night,” Ryan repeated, eyes squinting a little. “Yeah, I…” He frowned, looking as though he was struggling to remember. Then a shadow passed over his face, his features going slack. His gaze dropped to the floor. “No, I don’t remember,” he mumbled, almost too quiet for Brendon to hear.

Brendon studied the other boy’s face for a moment, trying to decide whether or not to push the issue. “Okay… well. You woke up with a fever, so they hooked you up to the IV and started you on some new meds to help with that.”

Ryan nodded slowly, still staring down at the linoleum. Brendon leaned forward, raising his hand to Ryan’s forehead. “You feel less warm,” he breathed, voice filled with relief. “I’m gonna go get the nurse to check your temperature again, okay?”

“Mmm. Okay. Tell her I feel funny.” Ryan pulled Brendon’s hand away from his forehead, his fingers toying with Brendon’s. “I’m on new meds, right?”

Brendon felt a smile tugging at the corners of his lips in spite of himself. “Yes, you are. I think they’re making you a little silly.”

“Hmm.” Ryan’s gaze shifted again, this time past where Brendon stood. “Spencer’s gonna have a crick in his neck.”

Brendon turned, noticing for the first time Spencer curled up in the chair next to his, head lolling to the side, sound asleep. He chuckled under his breath, nudging Spencer’s leg with his foot. “Wakey, wakey,” he said teasingly, when Spencer jerked awake, blinking up at him in confusion. “Keep Ryan company while I get the nurse. He’s all loopy.”

“Not  _ that _ loopy,” Ryan protested, eyes following Brendon as he crossed the room to the door. Brendon just smirked at him before stepping out into the hallway.

The fever had dropped to 99.6 degrees overnight.

Brendon thought he might cry from relief when the nurse told them, but he managed to eke out a smile at Ryan instead, who smiled back at him from beneath heavy-lidded eyes.

“These meds definitely make some people feel a bit out of it, but he’ll be able to go off of them in a day or two if the fever doesn’t go up again, and after that, you’ll probably be able to go home. Lots of rest for now, though.”

So they rested.

Jon joined them once the nurse left, taking Brendon’s chair after he repositioned himself in the bed at Ryan’s side, Ryan’s head resting on his shoulder while Brendon’s fingers gently combed through his hair. Brendon had already made sure to warn everyone not to talk about anything related to Liam or the assault around Ryan, but he kept his ears sharp for any indication of the conversation veering into dangerous territory. Jon and Spencer kept it light, though, mostly discussing the logistics of Jon helping return the tour bus and getting all of their possessions back to their respective homes. Ryan wasn’t paying close attention anyway, still out of it from the medication, and after about half an hour his heavy eyelids drooped all the way shut.

Brendon continued to hold him, warmed by the still-slightly-feverish heat radiating from the other boy’s skin. He closed his own eyes, half-listening to Jon and Spencer as they spoke in low tones.

_ Everything’s going to be all right, _ he told himself, as he counted each one of Ryan’s slow breaths.  _ Everything is going to be all right. _

-

“Brendon.”

All four heads turned to see Zack standing in the doorway. Brendon glanced briefly at Jon and Spencer just before Zack asked, “Can I talk to you out here for a sec?”

Brendon hesitated and looked down at Ryan, whose face had gone a bit pale at the seriousness of Zack’s tone. His fever had gone down again and the dosage of his meds had since been dropped, leaving him much more aware and conscientious than when the side effects had left him barely lucid. Brendon squeezed his hand gently as he slid off the side of the bed. “I’ll be right outside, okay? And Spencer and Jon will be right here.”

“Yeah,” Ryan mumbled, eyes dropping from Zack’s lingering form to the floor. It occurred to Brendon, as he followed Zack out of the room, that he might ought to dial back the overprotectiveness before he started to sound more like Ryan’s dad than his boyfriend.

“What’s going on?” he asked, as soon as the door was shut behind them. Zack’s solemn demeanor notwithstanding, Brendon was pretty sure Zack wouldn’t be calling him out of the room for anything other than news about Liam. Not after he’d told Zack not to mention it in front of Ryan, anyway.

“Alright. So.” Zack exhaled through his nose, shifting weight from one foot to the other and folding his arms across his chest. “Liam’s lawyer is making a deal.”

“A deal,” Brendon repeated, trying to decipher Zack’s stoney expression.

“Yes.” Zack hesitated. “He’s going away. Most likely for life. Just… not in prison.”

Brendon blinked. “Wait, back up. What?”

“His lawyer had him do consults with multiple psychologists and labeled as mentally unstable or whatever, so they could argue in court that he wasn’t guilty because he couldn’t be held accountable for what he did on account of being a total psychopath.” Zack sighed, rolled his eyes. “But if we went to court, there was a chance he could get sent to prison instead of a mental facility or something.  _ But _ ,” he added quickly, when Brendon opened his mouth to interject, “there was also a chance if it went to court that he could get off completely, there’s always that chance.”

“So what’s the deal, then?” Brendon asked, through gritted teeth.

“The deal is that instead of risking prison time, we don’t take it to court and Liam gets sent to a supervised facility and gets treatment instead.”

“For how  _ long _ , though?” Brendon pressed.

“Life. The deal is that he goes away for life.”

Brendon raised his eyebrows, scoffing. “Really. He just volunteered to sign himself into some asylum for the rest of his life to avoid going to court?”

“There’s a… very good chance he would go to prison if we took him to trial,” Zack said carefully. “But to make that happen without this deal, Ryan would have to testify. In open court.”

Brendon’s shoulders sagged. “Right,” he muttered, turning away. He was silent for a moment, running his fingers through his hair while he debated to himself. “This is happening, though, for sure? It’s a done deal?”

“It is. They’ve been debating back and forth for a couple of days. I didn’t want to bother you before it was finalized, with Ryan’s fever and everything already on your mind.”

“Yeah.” Brendon chewed at his lower lip. “He won’t stay there for life, you know. I just don’t believe it. He’s gonna find some way to come off as ‘rehabbed’ or whatever after a few years and get himself let out and the first thing he’s gonna do is go after Ryan.”

Zack sighed again. “Maybe. But I think it’s pretty obvious to everyone he’s spoken to that he’s a complete psychopath.”

“I guess we’ll see,” Brendon muttered.

“Hey.” Zack put his hand on Brendon’s shoulder. “Look. Regardless, for now, he’s going away. And when we leave here we’re not going to have to worry about him for at least the foreseeable future, and Ryan can recover in peace.”

Brendon felt himself deflating. “Yeah. I know, you’re right.” He breathed out slowly. “Thanks for telling me first.”

Zack shrugged. “Yeah, I mean, it’s what you asked for.” He glanced at the closed door beside them. “You gonna tell Ryan?”

Brendon nodded. “Will you tell Spencer and Jon while I talk to him? I don’t want him to be uncomfortable while I’m telling him.”

“Yep, no problem.”

Ryan watched him expectantly as he re-entered the room, brow furrowing a bit in confusion when Zack pulled Spencer and Jon out into the hallway. Brendon returned to his spot on the bed, taking Ryan’s hand in his.

“It’s about Liam, isn’t it?” Ryan asked, his voice quiet.

Brendon nodded. “It’s good news, though,” he said gently, even though he wasn’t fully sure that it was.

Ryan glanced up at him, expression guarded. “So what happened?”

“Basically,” Brendon cleared his throat. “Basically, his lawyer made a deal for him to get a life sentence in a mental facility instead of having it go to trial.”

Ryan considered this. “So… not jail.”

“No. But also…” Brendon hesitated. “You won’t have to testify. So you won’t ever have to talk about it to anyone you don’t want to talk to about it and he’ll still be put away.”

Ryan frowned. “For life, though? Are you sure?”

“That’s what Zack said,” Brendon replied carefully, eyes on Ryan’s face.

Ryan shook his head, staring down at his lap. “He won’t stay there. Not for life.”

He sounded resigned, slightly dejected, but not scared or panicked, as Brendon might have anticipated. Brendon hesitated, not wanting to outright lie to his boyfriend, but also not wanting to contribute to the idea that Ryan was still going to have to worry about Liam coming after him later in life. Not that he himself wasn’t worried about that distinct possibility.

“Zack seems to be confident that he’ll stay there for a really long time, even if not for life,” he said finally.

“He’ll find a way,” Ryan muttered. “He tends to find a way. Dunno if you’ve noticed.” He immediately cringed. “Sorry. I didn’t mean…”

“No, it’s okay.” Brendon slipped his arm around Ryan’s shoulders. “Listen. I’ll ask Zack to find more out about the deal that got made and the facility he’s getting sent to and we can keep up with it and make sure he stays there and they’re actually keeping an eye on him and everything. Like, that’s definitely a thing we can do. I mean, shit, we can call them every single day and check if you want to. Okay?”

Ryan nodded, still looking unconvinced.

“In the meantime…” Brendon planted a soft kiss on Ryan’s temple. “This means tomorrow, when we get to leave here,  _ fever-free _ , and go home, we’re not going to have to worry about him  _ at all _ .”

The faintest hint of a smile graced Ryan’s face. “Yeah, I guess.”

“Mmm.” Brendon ran his fingers through Ryan’s hair, gently parting some of the strands to one side. “How tired are you of hearing me tell you everything’s gonna be okay?”

Ryan shook his head. “I like hearing you say it,” he murmured, looking up at Brendon with a sincere expression on his face. “It makes me feel like it might actually be okay.”

Brendon felt his lips curve upward. “Really?”

“Really.” Ryan leaned into him, exhaling slowly. “Don’t stop saying it.”

“I won’t.” Brendon was quiet for a moment. “Hey, so… the other night, when you woke up with the fever?”

“Mmm, what about it?”

“Well, you were… I couldn’t tell if you were sleepwalking, at first, and you were going on about having to leave the hospital before, uh… before someone found out.” He felt Ryan tensing up a little against him. “You, um, you didn’t say who, though.”

Ryan shifted weight, clearing his throat. “Yeah, um… I don’t really remember that.”

“What  _ do _ you remember?”

“I… I dunno, I had a nightmare, but I don’t really remember most of it. And I sort of… I sort of remember you putting me back to bed, but it’s faint, it’s blurry, like when you’re really drunk, you know. I don’t know.” Ryan frowned down at his hands, fingers twisting in the bedsheets. “Why do you want to know?”

“It just, um… it just seemed like you might not have been dreaming about Liam, is all, and…” Brendon paused, unsure of whether he ought to continue. “Once you went back to sleep that night, Spencer came in and… we talked for awhile. He, uh, told me about… your dad.”

Ryan had gone stiff next to him. “Did he.”

“Yeah, I mean… He was just feeling a little… overprotective. And guilty, I think, for not noticing what was going on with… with Liam, after watching you go through everything with your dad.”

“So you guys psychoanalyzed my life while I was sleeping.”

“I -- no, Ry, no, not…” Brendon sighed. “I think he wanted to make sure I knew the whole story. And make sure I wasn’t going to…”

“Leave too.”

Brendon bit his lip. “Yeah.” They were both quiet for a moment. “Hey,” Brendon murmured eventually. “I just wanted you to know that I knew. That’s all.”

“Spencer told you I stayed with Liam because of my dad, didn’t he? I’d already spent most of my childhood letting another man beat the shit out of me so I might as well follow the trend well into my adult years?” Ryan shrugged Brendon’s arm off his shoulder and sat up, scooting toward the edge of the bed and swinging his legs over the side. Brendon reached for him, alarmed at the sudden bitterness in his tone.

“That’s not what he said. Nobody thinks that.”

“It’s true, though,” Ryan bit out. “I wish everyone would just come out and say it already. I trust all the wrong people and I let them beat the shit out of me and then you and Spencer and Jon and Zack have to come mop up the mess and take care of me until I let it happen all over again which is apparently inevitable--”

“Whoa, whoa,” Brendon interrupted, sensing the beginning of a downward spiral. “Ryan.” Ryan had raised one hand to his face, fingers pinching the bridge of his nose as he started to cry. Brendon pushed himself another couple of inches toward Ryan, close enough to wrap his arms around the other boy’s shoulders. Ryan flinched, but didn’t resist being pulled into the embrace.

“I wish,” Brendon whispered, suddenly close to tears himself, “I wish you could see yourself the way I see you. You’re worth so much more than you think you are, Ry. I know you think that everything that’s happened to you has been your fault, but it’s  _ not, _ baby. You didn’t ask for any of those things to happen to you, and you  _ definitely _ didn’t deserve them.”

Ryan sniffled against Brendon’s shirt. “I’m embarrassed,” he admitted.

“I know,” Brendon murmured. “It’s okay.”

“I wish I had been able to leave Liam without dragging everyone else into it.”

Brendon frowned. “You  _ did, _ Ry. That night, when you showed up at my place -- you  _ left _ . You couldn’t have known any of the shit that came after that was going to happen.”

Ryan didn’t say anything for a couple of seconds. Then, “I wish I hadn’t made Spencer worry so much when we were kids.”

Brendon sighed. “I think Spencer would have been worried regardless. It’s Spencer.”

“Yeah,” Ryan murmured. “Hey Bren?”

“Hmm?”

“I’m not, um… I’m not scared that you’re going to hurt me eventually, or anything. Like Liam did, I mean, I know you wouldn’t do that. I trust you.”

“I’m… glad,” Brendon replied, a bit surprised at the turn the conversation had taken.

“But… if I ever… act scared, or anything, around you, that… sometimes my brain just…”

Brendon flashed back for a moment to all of the times Ryan had reacted to various people trying to touch him over the past couple of months. “I know, Ry. You don’t have to explain that to me.”

Ryan exhaled, eyes closing as he leaned against Brendon’s shoulder. “Okay.” He slid his fingers in between Brendon’s. “Say it’s going to be okay again,” he whispered.

Brendon squeezed Ryan’s hand. “It’s all going to be okay,” he murmured back. “Everything is going to be okay.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (sigh) aaaaaaaaall right, my loves, it's about time i came back with another chapter, isn't it? i'm really sorry if this one felt a little stiff. i had it half-written for a few days, then i had it whole-written for awhile longer, then i rewrote a bunch of it, but ehhhh idek man i've been in kind of a shit mental state (as you might have guessed by me being up doing things like posting new chapters at 5am lmao) so it's been kind of hard to focus and yada yada usual excuses sad sad yada sad
> 
> ANYWAY we're almost done with the fic tho so!!! probs just a couple more chapters at this point and i promise i'm gonna get them to ya eventually even if it takes me way longer than it ought to!!!
> 
> also omg ya'll see panic's instagram story today / go on tumblr and witness everyone having a nervous breakdown trying to decipher it??? lmaooooo


	17. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> omg hi!!! i'm so sorry for making you guys wait so long for another update!! i was in a really bad place for like a month after posting the last chapter and couldn't bring myself to write like, at all. i started some new meds last week though and so far i'm doing a lot better on them and apparently that was the kick in the butt i needed to start this chapter!! then ofc it took me a hot minute to write because, well, this is a loooong one folks so hopefully that sort of makes up for you guys having to wait so long for me to post it.
> 
> we've only got one more chapter to go!!! it's muuuch shorter than this one and i have a good idea of how it's going to go so i definitely am not gonna make ya'll wait another month and a half this time. i promise!! and thanks as usual, so so much, to everyone who's commented and left kudos and been keeping up with the fic!! love you all very much xoxo

**THREE DAYS AFTER**

Brendon had barely drifted off when a disturbance in the mattress startled him awake again. He jolted upright, feeling Ryan writhing next to him while his eyes struggled to focus in the dark.

“No…” He heard, barely, Ryan whimper, before a soft sob slipped out past his lips. His breathing all of the sudden dissolved into a quick sequence of gasps, and Brendon’s eyes adjusted in time to see his hands come up from beneath the bedsheets and claw at the neck of the thin t-shirt covering him. His back arched slightly off the bed and he gave another breathy whimper, legs thrashing to break free of the bedcovers.

“Ryan. Ry!” Brendon gripped the other boy by his forearms, giving him a gentle shake. In the darkness he saw Ryan’s eyelids shoot open, accompanied by a sharp, fearful cry.

“N-No, no no, no please--”

“It’s Brendon,” Brendon interrupted quickly, speaking loudly enough to be heard over Ryan’s frightened babbling. He moved his hands to Ryan’s shoulders, his grip soft but firm against Ryan’s confused struggling. “It’s Brendon, it’s just me, we’re in the apartment, it’s okay. It’s okay.”

He felt Ryan start to deflate and helped him sit up, feeling both of the other boy’s hands grab hold of the front of Brendon’s shirt. He heard Ryan exhale, gasp for breath, exhale again.

“Bren,” Ryan whispered, his voice trembling. He slumped forward, burying his face against Brendon’s chest, his entire body shaking as he started to cry horrible, heaving sobs.

“I know,” Brendon murmured. “I know.” He blinked several times in quick succession, trying to keep tears from forming in his own eyes. He wrapped his arms around Ryan and held him close, waiting until the sobs started to die down.

“He t-took me,” he heard Ryan say after several minutes, voice muffled against Brendon’s chest.

“What?” Brendon brought one hand up to smooth his fingers through Ryan’s hair. “In the dream?”

He felt Ryan nod, inhaling shakily. “I didn’t scream, I couldn’t, I couldn’t do anything, and he… he hid me in the speaker box and he snuck me out a-and… he took me back to h-his… and he…” Ryan shook his head, cut off by another round of frenzied sobs. Brendon couldn’t stop his tears anymore. They rolled one by one down his cheeks as he blinked them away.

“Oh, baby,” he whispered. “I know. I know.” He planted his lips against Ryan’s forehead in a long, chaste kiss, wishing he could will away all of the dark thoughts in the other boy’s head with the motion. “It’s not real. You’re here with me, safe with me.”

Ryan nodded quickly, bringing one hand up to swipe at his tear-covered face. “I know. Yeah. I know. I… I’m…”

“You don’t have to say you’re sorry,” Brendon reminded him quietly.

Ryan didn’t respond, having pulled away enough from Brendon’s chest for Brendon to see him staring dismally down at the covers tangled around their legs. Brendon took the corner of one of the blankets and brought it to Ryan’s face, using it to wipe away some of his excess tears.

“I just wish it would stop,” Ryan murmured, as Brendon lowered the blanket.

“The nightmares?” Brendon took one of Ryan’s hands, threading their fingers together. “I know.” He hesitated. “You know… the doctors did give us the medication to help you sleep. And remember, they said you were less likely to have the nightmares if you take it.”

Ryan chewed at his lower lip, still staring down at the mattress as he nodded a couple of times.

“What?” Brendon caressed Ryan’s knuckles with his thumb. “What’s wrong?”

Ryan breathed out, long and hard, and pulled his knees up toward his chest. “What if I take them and I still have one of the dreams, though?” he whispered, almost too soft for Brendon to hear. “What if I can’t… what if I can’t wake up, or what if I can’t even move so I don’t wake  _ you _ up so you can wake me up, or--”

“Okay. Alright.” Brendon cut him off gently, sensing the start of a spiral. “It’s okay. You don’t have to take them if you don’t want to.”

Ryan shook his head, clearly frustrated. “It’s not that I don’t want… I know that you’re not getting to sleep either because of it, I just--”

“You don’t have to worry about me, Ry.”

Ryan squeezed his eyes shut, rocking back and forth a bit. “So much happened in the one I had tonight before… before you could wake me, and I… I used to be able to wake myself up from them, before, when we were on tour, and now I can’t anymore and… if I was forced to stay asleep… it feels _ real _ , B, they feel so  _ real _ .”

“I know. I know. You don’t have to explain to me.” Brendon squeezed Ryan’s hand. “I would never force you to even have that worry in your head just to get a few hours of extra sleep.”

“Okay.” Ryan released the breath he seemed to have been holding.

“Okay,” Brendon repeated. He leaned in to press his lips to Ryan’s temple again. “You wanna try to go back to sleep?”

Ryan nodded and laid back against the pillows. Brendon rearranged the sheets and blankets on top of them, shaking out the crazed folds that had gathered from all the earlier moving about. He relaxed into the bed and scooted closer to Ryan, once more lacing their fingers together.

“Bren?”

“Hmm?”

“Did you call today?”

He meant the facility that Liam had been sent to. Brendon had been waiting all day for Ryan to ask him to call, but he never did. He hadn’t the day before, either. Brendon still called both days, though, waiting until Ryan crept off to take one of his slightly-too-long showers to pick up the phone and dial.

“Yeah, Ry. I did. He’s there.”

“Oh. Okay. Thanks.” There was a short pause. “Can… can you call tomorrow?”

“Of course.” Brendon squeezed his hand gently. “As soon as we wake up. Okay?” He shifted weight, moving into a more comfortable position for sleeping.

“I love you,” he heard Ryan whisper quietly, once he had settled.

“I love you more,” Brendon countered, a smile ghosting across his face when he saw Ryan squint at him through the darkness.

“No.”

“Maybe.”

“Nuh-uh.”

“It’s possible.”

“Mmm…”

Brendon didn’t respond again, taking Ryan’s sleepy grumble as a cede to defeat. He watched, the hint of a smile still gracing his lips, as the other boy closed his eyes and his facial features smoothed out. Only once the other boy’s breathing grew even did Brendon’s own eyes flicker shut, carrying him quickly back into a state of sleep.

-

Brendon blinked against the sharp brightness of the sun as it peeked through his bedroom curtains, suppressing a groan as he rolled over, toward Ryan’s side of the bed. He sat up, suddenly wide awake, when he found the rest of the bed empty, the mattress cold beneath his hand. He frowned, swinging his feet over the side of the bed and stumbling to his feet before his brain registered the sound of the bathroom fan, whirring dully from behind an almost-shut door.

He stepped softly toward the bathroom, until he was close enough to peek through the crack in the door. All Brendon could see was Ryan’s reflection as he stood, still as stone, in front of the mirror. His hair was damp, his body clad only in a pair of boxers. His right hand was clutching the corner of a towel, the other end of which trailed against the bathroom tile, forgotten. Brendon followed his gaze, noting the troubled, faraway glassiness to his eyes as he did so, down to Ryan’s waistline. He felt a knot form in his stomach when he realized what Ryan was looking at: the dark purple and blue bruises on each of his hips, both forming the vague outline of hands.

Brendon nudged the door open, its hinges creaking softly. Ryan jumped, whipping around and clutching the towel to his chest. Brendon froze, holding his breath as they locked gazes. He watched Ryan’s eyes as they searched, waiting for his brain to unscramble itself and give him the correct version of reality.

The glassy look faded and Ryan’s lower lip started to tremble. Brendon reached out and gently pried the towel from between Ryan’s fingers, draping it over the rack by the door. Ryan’s arms hugged his torso, his expression still one of discomfort. He turned away, back toward the mirror.

“Sorry,” he said quietly. “I didn’t want to wake you.” He watched in the mirror as Brendon’s eyes traveled back down to the bruises on his hips. He cringed, looking away, redness creeping up his neck and through his cheeks.

“It’s okay,” Brendon murmured back, not even sure himself whether he was responding to Ryan or referring to the marks on his skin. He stepped closer to Ryan and leaned toward him, meaning to press his lips to Ryan’s temple. He froze when Ryan flinched and ducked his head. “Ry?”

“You could kiss me on the mouth,” Ryan whispered.

The air suddenly felt still, like if a pin dropped in the kitchen they’d both be able to hear it clear as day from where they stood. Brendon stared at Ryan, a sick feeling twisting his gut, like his body already knew he was about to have something to feel guilty for. “I-I… I know, I--”

“You haven’t, though.” Ryan squeezed his eyes shut, his hands finding each of his hips and fingering the bruised skin there. “Like you think you’re going to break me, or I’ll have a fit or something, or maybe you just don’t  _ want _ to because--”

Brendon cut him off with a hand on his shoulder, feeling him tense up beneath the grip but still using it to spin Ryan back around to face him. He closed the distance between them and pressed his lips to Ryan’s before Ryan could say another word. Ryan had started to shake at some point but Brendon felt the tremors subsiding as he held the kiss, taking care still not to get too carried away even when Ryan started to kiss back.

He pulled away after several long moments, one hand cupping Ryan’s cheek as their eyes met, Ryan’s face still hot and flushed.

“All I ever want to do is kiss you,” he said earnestly. “I’m so, so sorry I made you feel otherwise.” His hand moved downward as he spoke, resting first on the side of Ryan’s torso, then sliding down toward his hip. Ryan winced, turning his head to avoid Brendon’s gaze as Brendon’s fingers found the bruise on his left hip.

“Hey,” Brendon murmured, stroking Ryan’s cheek with his free hand. “Hey. Look at me? Please?”

Ryan’s eyes flicked back to meet Brendon’s, expression guarded.

“You’re beautiful,” Brendon whispered. “You’re beautiful and there’s nothing wrong with you.” Before Ryan could even think about arguing with him, he crouched down, his hands on Ryan’s waist for support. Ryan drew a sharp breath as Brendon pressed his lips against Ryan’s right hip, then withdrew and planted them against the skin of his left. He rose to his feet again, in time to see Ryan’s eyes filling with tears.

“Bren…”

“I know. I know.” Brendon pulled Ryan toward him, hugging him close and shielding him from the mirror. “It’s okay.”

**TWO WEEKS AFTER**

Ryan glanced up as Brendon stepped into the bedroom doorway. He leaned against the doorframe, an earbud in each ear. “Hey.”

Ryan gave a tight-lipped smile and turned back to the notebook in front of him, tapping the eraser end of his pencil against the page. Brendon stepped fully into the room and flopped down on his back next to Ryan. Ryan frowned, his brain trying to place the barely-audible melody coming from Brendon’s headphones. He reached over and plucked the earbud from Brendon’s left ear, holding it up to better hear. He made a face when he recognized the live recording of ‘There’s a Good Reason Why These Tables Are Numbered’ and handed it back. “Why are you still listening to those mixes? We approved them all days ago.”

Brendon gave a cheeky grin. “You’re so cute in this one, though!”

Ryan groaned. “I sound so dumb.”

“Do you guys know what ‘jazz hands’ are?” Brendon drawled, giggling when Ryan covered his eyes with one hand. “It’s adorable, c’mon.”

Ryan just shook his head, returning his attention to his notebook. Brendon pulled the earbuds out and dropped them on the bedspread. “What are you working on?”

Ryan chewed on his lip for a moment, eyes scanning the scrawl of words in front of him, before sliding the page toward Brendon. Brendon pulled the book closer, fingers toying with the cord to his headphones as he read. He glanced up after a moment, his expression more serious now. “These are… dark.” He scrambled into a sitting position as Ryan gave a short sigh and sat up, clearly frustrated. “I mean, they’re  _ good _ , just--”

“Dark,” Ryan supplied. “And they’re not that good.” He glared down at the bedspread. “I don’t know what I was expecting, though, considering.”

Brendon frowned. “What are you talking about?”

Ryan shook his head again, snatching the notebook off the bed and snapping it shut. “Maybe you or Spencer or Jon can start writing the lyrics,” he muttered. “That, or we’ll just have the whole next album sound like this.” He tossed the notebook onto the floor and drew his knees up to his chest, running his fingers through his hair and avoiding Brendon’s gaze.

Brendon stared at him, trying to keep up with Ryan’s thought process -- not that he was following it all that clearly to begin with. “Ry… it’s only been two weeks since--” Ryan flinched. “--since we ended tour,” Brendon said, though he knew they were both mentally finishing the sentence with  _ since we left the hospital _ . “The  _ first _ tour for Pretty Odd, which we only  _ just _ released -- why are you already worried about writing the next album?”

Ryan shrugged. “Don’t have anything better to worry about, I guess.” He stared down at the bedspread, picking at a stray strand of decorative threading.

“Hey…” Brendon scooted closer, sliding one arm around Ryan’s shoulders. “You’ll get there. It’s not something you have to stress about right now.”

Ryan glanced up at him, expression unreadable. His eyes searched Brendon’s for a moment, before he suddenly leaned in and pressed their lips together. Surprised, Brendon paused for a moment before following Ryan’s lead, unsure of what was happening but kissing back regardless.

Ryan pushed him back against the bed, the kiss growing more heated, aggressive even. Brendon barely suppressed a gasp when he felt Ryan’s hands on his torso, just before Ryan rolled them over, flipping their positions so that he was the one with his back against the mattress. His fingers slid around from Brendon’s waist to his lower back, holding Brendon’s body flush with his own. Brendon’s brain was buzzing, struggling to keep up. It was hard to focus on the cautionary thoughts flashing through his mind with Ryan underneath him like this, kissing him so hard his head spun, fingers traveling lower, lower…

Brendon couldn’t help but moan under his breath he felt Ryan’s fingers ghosting down the back of his thighs, a shudder passing through his body when he felt the touch circle around to his front. 

“Ryan,” he breathed, breaking the kiss for a moment when Ryan started fumbling with the button on his jeans. It was meant to be a warning, but the sirens going off in his head grew harder to pay attention to as Ryan grabbed his hand and moved it to his own crotch, his hips bucking upward into the touch. A split second later Brendon was fully distracted by Ryan’s hand slipping into his pants, palming him through his boxers.

“Fuck,” he hissed, just before Ryan’s lips located his again and resumed the kiss with fervor. His brain was still whispering for him to stop, to back off before something bad happened, that this wasn’t a good idea. But everything below him was just a heated tangle of arms and legs and fingers and warmth and  _ fuck, touching _ , and his body had begun to override his reservations, trying to get him to forget them altogether.

He ground his hips down, suddenly desperate for more, more,  _ more _ , fondling Ryan through his jeans before toying with his button and zipper, trying to keep up with the pace Ryan’s hands were setting. His fingers had barely grazed the fabric of Ryan’s underwear when Ryan stopped moving beneath him.

_ Stop _ . Ryan had pulled back from the kiss, sucking a strangled breath past his lips.  _ Stop! _ Brendon’s brain insisted, jolting him out of his pleasure-induced daze. He started to pull away just as Ryan raised his hands to Brendon’s chest, giving him a weak shove before scrambling off the bed and darting into the bathroom. Brendon heard the clatter of porcelain against porcelain, followed by the contents of Ryan’s stomach being emptied into the toilet. He stared, wide-eyed, down at the bed, his breathing heavy as he struggled to collect himself.

_ You shouldn’t have done that, _ his brain chastised.  _ Fuck, yu know better. You knew what was going to happen. It’s too fucking soon. _

He struggled to his feet, adjusting his clothes. The toilet flushed. He hesitantly stepped toward the bathroom, stopping in the doorway. Ryan was on his knees next to the toilet still, taking shallow, shaky breaths, one arm raised and wiping at the tears that were rolling down his face, body trembling all over.

Brendon’s gut churned. “Oh, Ry,”  he murmured. He took a step forward, one arm outstretched in Ryan’s direction.

Ryan glanced up, eyes taking a split second to focus on Brendon’s hand, just inches from his face. He flinched, recoiling. “Don’t,  _ don’t _ \--” Brendon froze, staring wide-eyed down at Ryan as he shrank back against the bathroom wall. “Don’t touch me, just don’t, just…”

“Ryan.”

“Don’t!” Ryan snapped. “Get out, just -- just get out!”

“We should talk about--”

“I don’t want to talk about it!” Ryan shouted. Brendon took a step back, startled by the sudden loud volume. Ryan covered his face with his hands. “Please,” he whispered, his voice muffled.

Brendon sighed, his shoulders sagging with defeat. “I’ll be in the living room,” he said quietly. Ryan didn’t reply. Brendon cast him a lingering glance before backing out of the room.

Twenty minutes or so passed. Brendon sat on the couch in silence, elbows resting on his knees, fingers locked together supporting his chin. He didn’t bother trying to keep himself entertained by having the stereo or television running, instead straining his ears for any sounds of potential distress from upstairs. All he could hear was the faint sound of crying, his stomach twisting with every muffled sob.

Finally, the soft thud of footsteps echoed in the hallway. Brendon straightened, looking up as Ryan walked into the room, his arms wrapped protectively around his chest. His eyes were puffy and red. He avoided Brendon’s gaze as he strode past the couch and into the kitchen without a word. Brendon heard a cabinet door open and close, water running, the clink of a glass being set down on the countertop.

He watched Ryan re-enter the living room, a nervous air about him. He sidestepped the couch and perched on the edge of the chair adjacent to it, his back stiff. He stared down at his hands, folded tightly together in his lap.

“I’m sorry,” he said quietly.

Brendon chewed on his lower lip for a moment before he replied. “What happened?”

“My rib strained while we were…” Ryan bit his lip. “It just kind of took my mind back to… you know.”

“No, I mean… before that. All the hot and heavy stuff out of nowhere, zero to a hundred?” Ryan winced. Brendon exhaled and leaned back against the couch. “I understand that you’re not ready to be physical like that, Ry, it’s okay. I should have backed off sooner.”

Ryan shook his head. “No, it’s my fault. I shouldn’t have even…”

“So… why?” Brendon prodded, when Ryan didn’t continue.

Ryan combed his fingers through his hair. “Because… because I…” He sighed and stood up, hugging his arms to his torso and pacing back and forth in front of the television set. “If I can’t write a decent set of lyrics and I can’t be even a  _ half _ -decent boyfriend then I--”

“Whoa, whoa, wait a second,” Brendon protested, rising to his feet as well. “Half-decent… Ryan, what?”

Ryan flinched when Brendon stepped toward him, pacing several strides in the opposite direction. “I shouldn’t have yelled at you earlier and I shouldn’t have jumped all over you like that and then stopped, I’m sorry, I know that I--”

“Ryan. Ry. Hey, breathe. Breathe for a second.” Ryan stopped pacing and turned toward him, a hint of fear in his eyes. Brendon bit his lip. “Look, it’s… it’s me, Ry. I’m not him. I don’t  _ expect _ anything from you, I don’t… you don’t  _ owe _ me sex, or  _ anything _ else, just because we’re together, and… and I’m not going to get mad at you for -- for expressing your emotions to me, like a, a normal human being, I…”

Ryan’s hands were still shaking, a sliver of wariness in his eyes still as he held Brendon’s gaze. Brendon sighed, trying to calm himself, ease the passion in his tone before it could be mistaken for aggression. “I’m not him,” he repeated, his voice soft.

Ryan’s jaw clenched. “I know that. Of  _ course _ I know that.” He crossed his arms and uncrossed them again. He ducked his head and shuffled his feet. “I just… my brain, sometimes, I… I forget, I…”

“I know.”

“I get so… confused…” Ryan raised his hands, rubbing them across his face.

“I know. That’s okay. One day at a time, remember?” Brendon took a tentative step forward. When Ryan didn’t shy away, he took another. “You can talk to me about this stuff. I hate seeing you get so upset worrying. I just want to help you feel like you have to worry so much.”

Ryan nodded, still staring down at the floor. He sniffed, tears pooling at the edges of his eyes. He stepped forward into Brendon’s embrace, nestling his face against the crook of Brendon’s neck.

“It’ll be okay,” Brendon murmured, planting a soft kiss to Ryan’s head. “Just one day at a time.”

**FOUR WEEKS AFTER**

Brendon held the phone away from his ear for a moment, checking to make sure he could still hear the water running down the hall. “What? Yeah, sorry Spence, I’m here. Just making sure he’s still in the shower.”

“Still?” Spencer repeated. “Wait, how long has he been in there? I thought you called me as soon as he got in.”

“I called the psych institution first. Just, you know. To make sure.” Brendon cleared his throat. “He’ll be in there for awhile still, though.”

Spencer was quiet for a moment. “So long showers, psych ward calls that I assume you do pretty often… How’s he doing? For real.”

Brendon cast another wary glance down the hall. “I mean, we’re taking it one day at a time, you know, he’s--”

“Brendon. Come on. Every time I call you guys give me the same bullshit. He’s not around right now so tell me the truth.”

Brendon sighed. “I mean, it’s been hard, you know. Some days are kind of okay and others are pretty shitty.” He turned to lean against the kitchen counter. “He’s still having nightmares almost every night -- I mean lately we’ve been able to go a night here and there without one which has been nice, but -- with those, too, some are worse than others, every once in awhile he has a really bad one and he’s literally off for the rest of the day after that.”

“Is he… taking anything? Seeing anyone?”

“No, he still won’t see a therapist and he doesn’t want to be on drugs. He won’t take sleeping pills to sleep, either, he’s afraid he’ll be in too deep a sleep to wake up if he has a nightmare.”

“Shit.” Spencer exhaled into the receiver. “Well, you’re not painting too pretty of a picture.”

“No, I mean… you wanted the truth about the bad stuff, but honestly, compared to the week we came home from the hospital, he’s loads better.”

“Okay…” Spencer sighed again. “Well…”

“What?” Brendon asked, sensing there was something Spencer wasn’t telling him.

“Okay. Don’t think this is the only reason I’m calling to check in, though.”

“Okay…” Brendon crossed his free arm over his chest, wary.

“The label’s really laying on the pressure trying to get us back out on the road.”

“Seriously?” Brendon’s jaw clenched. “I’m pretty sure they’re all aware of what happened to Ryan, are they really--”

“I know, I know, but listen, okay -- it sucks, but they also have a point. At least from the business and promotion aspect, you know, we… we’ve only been on the one tour so far for Pretty Odd, and it was just North America. They want us to do Europe, the UK, South America -- maybe even all the continents, plus the US all over again. Plus… you know the record isn’t selling as well as it could be, and that’s worrying them too, so it makes sense that they’re thinking it might help to get us back out on the road.”

Brendon breathed out, shoulders sagging. “Yeah. I know. That all makes sense.”

“So… what do you think? I mean, is it crazy and horrible to even consider it at this point, or…?”

“I mean…” Brendon chewed on his lower lip. “Ryan’s definitely getting stir-crazy, and he’s frustrated because you know he’s always put way too much pressure on himself, but right now he doesn’t really have an outlet for that. So honestly, if you asked him right now he’d probably say yes whether or not he’s really ready for it. But I don’t know, that’s kind of why I’m worried and I’m not really sure we  _ should _ ask him yet--”

“Ask me what?”

Brendon jumped, swiveling to see Ryan standing in the doorway, his hair damp and his arms crossed. “Um…”

“Shit,” Spencer muttered. “Was that him?”

“Who’s on the phone?” Ryan asked, raising his eyebrows at Brendon.

Brendon sighed. “It’s Spencer,” he admitted.

“Mhmm. And you guys were just… casually talking about me while I was in the shower?”

Brendon huffed. “No, Ry, we were just--”

“Here,” Spencer interrupted from the other end of the line. “Just let me talk to him. Give him the phone.”

Brendon lowered the phone from his ear and held it out to Ryan without another word. Ryan blinked back at him, his expression slightly sour, before taking it from Brendon’s hand. He held it to his ear and half-turned away from Brendon. “What’s going on, Spence?”

Brendon shoved his hands into his pockets, watching Ryan while listening to his half of the conversation.

“No, seriously, just tell me. I’m sick of everyone tiptoeing around me, refusing to actually tell me anything because of how I might react. Just talk to me…. Okay…. No, I know that, I know that already, it all makes sense. They’re right…. Okay, so we  _ should _ keep touring, then…. God, Spence, yes, I can do it, I’ll be fine, come on….” Ryan glanced over his shoulder at Brendon, shifting weight from one foot to another.

“I’m not just telling you what you want to hear, Spence, I swear…. Yes, it’s only been a month, but still…. God, seriously? No, I haven’t been seeing a therapist, I don’t -- Are you for real right now, I…. Christ. Okay, I’ll  _ try _ it. That’s all I’m going to promise…. No, one session,  _ one _ ….  _ One, _ Spence… god, fine, two. That’s  _ it _ , that’s all I’m going to promise right now…. Okay.” Ryan sighed, shuffling his feet again. “Did they really say it might be a world tour?” he asked, his voice holding less irritation than before. Brendon couldn’t help but smile seeing Ryan’s eyes light up when he heard the response.

“Okay. Okay, well then, call them already, let’s do it! Yeah. Yeah, okay Spence. All right. Oh my god, yes, I’m eating enough. Thank you, Mom.” Brendon chuckled quietly under his breath. “Yeah, I’ll tell him. He’s  _ totally _ on board.” Ryan turned back toward Brendon, eyebrows raised suggestively. Brendon sighed, shrugging his shoulders and nodding back at his boyfriend. “Okay. Call us when there’s more news, okay? Yep. Bye.”

Ryan hung up the phone and set it on the kitchen counter. With a long exhale, he crossed his arms over his chest, still facing away from Brendon.

“I’m sorry,” Brendon said quietly.

Ryan shook his head. “We’ve…  _ talked _ about this. And yet you guys just keep assuming I can’t handle anything without even giving me a chance to react.”

“I…” Brendon stopped, reconsidering the excuse he was about to make. “You’re right,” he acknowledged instead, after a second’s pause. “It just felt… more complicated than that when Spencer asked to talk.”

“Why? Because you knew he wanted to ask you how I’m  _ really _ doing without me being around to hear what you have to say?”

Brendon winced. “No. I… to be honest, I figured he, or someone at least, would be calling soon about us going back on tour.” He sighed, leaning forward and resting his elbows on the counter in front of him. “I wasn’t  _ just _ worried about whether or not you should be going back on tour so soon. I was worried that even if you  _ weren’t _ ready, you would leap at the chance to go anyway. Which… you pretty much did.”

Ryan bristled. “So what?” He demanded, whipping around to face Brendon. “No one likes the album, the fans hate us for changing our sound, I may never write another decent set of lyrics ever again, and it’s a crime for me to want to try to salvage our band, my musical career, by going back on tour when that’s  _ absolutely _ what we should be doing anyway?”

“Yes! If it costs you your health and your sanity, yes!” Brendon stared across the counter into Ryan’s eyes, watching some of his anger fade at Brendon’s words. “Maybe you don’t think either of those are worth prioritizing, but I do!”

Ryan swallowed, dropping his gaze to the countertop. “Okay,” he whispered.

Brendon felt himself deflate. He reached across the laminate and took Ryan’s hands in his. “Are you really ready to do this again?” he asked, his voice low, gentle.

“I…” Ryan bit his lip. “I don’t know, I… I think so, I… I  _ want _ to go.” He was quiet for a few seconds. “It’s… kind of scary,” he admitted. “But I don’t know how I’m supposed to know for sure that I’m  _ ready _ beyond just… wanting to be, and being willing to try it and see if I actually am.”

Brendon gave a couple of slow nods. “Are you actually going to see a therapist like you told Spencer?”

Ryan made a face. “Only because I promised him.”

Brendon studied Ryan’s face for a moment. “Then I guess we’re going on tour.”

Ryan looked up, corners of his lips turning upward. “Really? You’re in?”

Brendon smirked. “Well, you  _ did _ already tell Spencer I was, so…”

Ryan’s smile widened, turning into a broad grin. “Shit, we’re going to Europe!” He squeezed Brendon’s hands, a small laugh slipping out from between his lips. “And maybe a lot of other places too!”

Brendon grinned back, his heart skipping a beat at the sight of Ryan’s face all lit up, the likes of which he hadn’t seen in what seemed like forever. Ryan stepped around the counter, joining Brendon on the other side of the cupboards. He pulled Brendon toward him. “No one else I’d rather go with.”

“I thought I was supposed to be the cheesy one.”

“Oh, hush,” Ryan murmured, his expression sobering as he looked into Brendon’s eyes, their faces just inches apart. He traced along Brendon’s jawline with his thumb before drawing nearer and pressing his lips to Brendon’s.

Brendon kissed back, a shiver running down his spine as Ryan’s fingers found the hair at the nape of his neck, curling through the dark locks there. They pulled apart, both flushed in the cheeks and smiling a bit bashfully. Brendon leaned forward, resting his forehead against Ryan’s.

“Getting there,” Ryan murmured.

“I know,” Brendon replied. His arms circled Ryan’s torso, pulling him in close. “I know.”

**FIVE WEEKS AFTER**

“I still can’t believe he was able to find someone  _ and _ get me an appointment with her within the week.” Ryan huffed as he dropped onto the sofa, folding his arms across his chest. Brendon smiled and sat down next to him, pulling his legs up and crossing one over the other.

“But did you like her, at least?”

Ryan shrugged. “I dunno. I guess.” He pulled his knees up to his chest. “Took over half the session just to fill her in on my whole…” He gestured vaguely with one hand. “...shitshow. So. You know. That was fun.”

“That’s probably why Spencer wanted you to do at least two sessions,” Brendon said gently.

Ryan shrugged again, biting the end of his fingernail with his front teeth. “Let’s talk about something else,” he said, looking vaguely uncomfortable.

“Okay. Like what?”

“I dunno.” Ryan stopped biting his nail and rested his elbow on the back of the couch, propping his chin up by the palm of his hand. “Ask me a question.”

Brendon raised an eyebrow. “Any question?”

Ryan sighed. “I’m afraid to say yes, but…”

“Hmm.” Brendon thought for a moment. “Okay, I’ve got one.” He leaned forward a little. “When did you realize that you were into guys?”

Ryan blinked. “Oh. Wow. Okay. Uh…”

“Too much?”

“Uh… no, I just…” Ryan cleared his throat. “I’m… I guess I’m not sure.” He was quiet for a few long seconds. “I’ve known for… awhile, I guess.”

Brendon hesitated. “So… when you dated Jac…”

Ryan shook his head. “That was real.”

“Got it.” Brendon nodded a couple of times. “Okay.”

Ryan glanced up at him. “So… Audrey?”

Brendon shrugged, looking down at his lap. “Yeah… not my finest moment. I like to think I’ve matured a little since making that life choice.”

“So you didn’t…?”

Brendon winced. “I mean… when you and Jac got together and she started messaging me, coming on to me… I don’t want to be like ‘oh, it just kind of happened’, but… it was just easy, I guess. It seemed like the easy choice.”

Ryan raised his eyebrows. “Wait, so you don’t… you don’t like girls at all?”

“Doesn’t seem like it, no.”

Ryan leaned back, digesting this information. “Okay. So then when did  _ you _ know?”

“Um…” Brendon ran his fingers through his hair. “I mean… I guess I  _ suspected _ when I was a teenager but… growing up in a conservative mormon family, you know. That’s not something that’s really easy to accept about yourself.”

“So when did you… accept it?”

Brendon’s cheeks flushed. He bit his lip, suppressing the small, sheepish smile they had begun to twist into. Ryan sat up straighter, watching Brendon’s face more closely now. “What?”

Brendon slowly raised his gaze to meet Ryan’s. “It’s gonna sound…”

Ryan’s eyes widened. “What?” he pressed.

Brendon’s cheeks grew even redder. “I… met you,” he mumbled.

Ryan blinked. “I… what?”

Brendon laced his fingers together, looking over his knuckles at Ryan. “I met you,” he repeated quietly. “I’d never felt that way before. After that… there was no one else for me. Just you.”

Ryan stared back at him silently. After a long moment he pulled his knees up under himself and leaned forward, placing one hand on either side of Brendon’s lap for balance. He paused, his lips a mere inch away from Brendon’s. “I love you,” he whispered.

Brendon raised his fingers to the nape of Ryan’s neck and closed the short distance between them with a gentle kiss. Ryan pushed back, easing Brendon back against the couch cushions. Brendon exhaled, a shiver crawling up his spine as Ryan’s tongue slipped between his lips. He slid his hands up the sides of Ryan’s torso and Ryan sank down until his body was flush with Brendon’s. They kissed for a minute longer before Ryan’s fingers lifted the hem of Brendon’s shirt, pushing it up his chest. Ryan broke away long enough to dip down and kiss along Brendon’s abdomen.

Brendon shuddered, barely suppressing the groan that rose to his lips. “Ryan. Ry. Should we stop?”

Ryan sat back on his heels, breathing heavily. “I guess so,” he murmured, as he sank back into a seated position.

Brendon sat up, rearranging his shirt while watching Ryan’s face. “It’s okay, you know. I just wanted to make sure.”

“Yeah, no, I…” Ryan sighed, shaking his head. “It just sucks.”

Brendon was quiet for a minute. “Have you thought about, um… What if we… did things differently? I mean, I don’t know if that’s oversimplifying the solution, but…”

Ryan frowned. “What do you mean?”

“Like… if you were on top.”

Ryan’s face reddened. He looked away. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“Okay. If you wanted to try though, I would be--”

“I can’t.” Ryan bit his lip.

“I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”

“No, I…” Ryan hugged his knees to his chest. “It’s stupid.”

“Not if you’re this worried about it.” Brendon reached out, took one of Ryan’s hands in his. “What is it?”

Ryan breathed out, long and slow. “I know it’s… irrational. I just… I’ve thought about it. Like, if that would even be an… an option. For me. And then I worry that I…” He sucked in a deep breath. “That I might hurt you. And I might be enjoying myself too much to… care.” He cringed, still avoiding Brendon’s eyes. “I don’t want to be like him. I don’t want to hurt you, I don’t want to risk the possibility that… that I might…”

“Hey.” Brendon squeezed his hand. “Listen. Even if you don’t think you should be worried about that happening… the fact that you are means that you wouldn’t enjoy it if we tried it.” He shrugged. “So that means I wouldn’t enjoy it either.” He scooted closer, slid his arm around Ryan’s shoulders. “Come here. It’s okay.”

Ryan nestled against Brendon’s side, humming under his breath. They sat there for awhile, until Brendon saw Ryan crack a smile all of the sudden in his peripheral vision. “What?”

“I was just thinking…” Ryan’s lips twitched. “Remember how, after we all broke up… Audrey and Jac tried to start a rumor online that we were… I dunno. Gay for each other?”

“Oh, god,” Brendon groaned. “Do I ever.”

“Wouldn’t you just love to see the looks on their faces when they find out they were technically right?”

Brendon raised his eyebrows. “When?” he repeated, looking at Ryan curiously.

Ryan’s smile faltered. “Oh. I mean--”

“No, no, it’s okay, just… You’ve never talked before about… coming out.”

Ryan chewed at his bottom lip for a moment. “I guess I’ve… never been with anyone else who makes me feel like it’d be worth it.”

A broad smile spread across Brendon’s face. “Worth it?” he repeated, a teasing tone to his words. “Gonna tell the whole world you love me?”

Ryan looked back at him, smirking a little. “Maybe. If your ego can handle it.”

Brendon chuckled, planting a kiss against Ryan’s forehead. “Aren’t you just full of the best surprises,” he murmured.

“Mmm. I try to use those balance out the bad ones.”

Brendon nudged Ryan’s cheek with his nose. “There’s not a single bad thing about you, Ry,” he said quietly. “Not a single thing.”

**EIGHT WEEKS AFTER**

Brendon rolled over, squinting as he blinked his eyes open. Some sun had peeked through the cracks where the blinds didn’t quite cover the bedroom windowpane. His gaze traveled down to where Ryan lay next to him. A thin sheen of sweat had beaded up across his forehead, his breathing heavy and his body trembling a bit beneath the covers each time he exhaled. There were moisture tracks around his eyes, where tears had rolled down the sides of his face. Brendon frowned, propping himself up on one elbow and reaching out with his free hand.

“Ry?” He placed his hand on Ryan’s shoulder, prepared to shake him awake. There was no need, however, because Ryan jerked awake as soon as Brendon touched him. He shoved himself into an upright position, swiping at his face and taking a few deep, shaky breaths. Some of the tension left his shoulders as he gathered his whereabouts. He glanced at Brendon and then quickly looked away again, avoiding his gaze.

Brendon sat up. “Were you… dreaming?”

Ryan cleared his throat. “Yeah.”

Brendon’s frown deepened when Ryan didn’t elaborate. “Like… the usual, or--”

“Yeah. I relived it. The whole thing. Except at the end you decided I was too messed up and left.”

Brendon’s eyes widened. “I… Ry--”

“I don’t want to talk about it.” Ryan glanced at the clock on the nightstand and swung his feet over the side of the bed. “It’s almost time to get up anyway.” He stood up, folding his arms tightly across his chest, his back to Brendon. “I’m gonna grab a shower.”

“O-Okay.” Brendon stared at Ryan’s back as he stepped into the bathroom and shut the door, never once meeting Brendon’s eyes. Brendon sat there for a few minutes, listening to the bathroom fan whirring and the shower water turn on, a sick feeling stirring in the pit of his stomach. Finally he rolled out of bed, dressing himself and casting a lingering glance toward the bathroom door before leaving the room.

-

“I can get it, I can get it. Let’s just go again.”

Brendon exchanged quick glances with Spencer and Jon. “Maybe we should take a break.”

“We’ve been going for less than an hour. I’m fine.” Ryan reached up and adjusted his guitar strap. “Count it back in, Spence.”

Spencer shrugged. “Okay, then.” He tapped his drumsticks together and they jumped back into the second verse of  _ Mad as Rabbits _ .

Brendon sang his parts and stepped away from his microphone, tensing up as he watched Ryan, waiting for him to come in. He missed the cue again, playing the wrong riff instead of singing his line. He winced, immediately realizing his mistake when he heard his instrument clashing with the rest of the band, and stopped playing. Everyone else stopped as well.

“Sorry, sorry, I know, I’m sorry.” Ryan’s fingers curled around the neck of his guitar, his knuckles turning white.

“There’s only one riff in that part,” Jon said, trying to be helpful. “It’s different from the first and last--”

“I know,” Ryan snapped, clenching his jaw. “I wrote the damn song, I know how it goes.” He ran his thumb over the bottom string of his guitar, staring at his feet to avoid everyone’s eyes.

“We should really take a break,” Brendon said again. Ryan just shook his head. Brendon sighed. “Ry…”

He stepped toward Ryan, reaching out to him. Ryan immediately recoiled with a sharp intake of breath, flinging his arms up to shield his face. Brendon froze, cold dread washing over him. The room went dead silent, everyone staring in shock at Ryan’s cowering form.

Ryan lowered his arms, his hands visibly shaking. All color had drained from his face. He stared at Brendon, eyes wide and horror painting his expression. “Oh,” he whispered. “I didn’t -- I-I…”

“Okay. It’s okay.” Brendon slowly lifted his guitar off his body and set it behind him on its stand, his eyes never leaving Ryan’s face. “Spence, Jon. Can we have a minute?”

Spencer looked back and forth between the two of them. “Yeah,” he muttered, after several seconds of hesitation. “Yeah, we’ll be outside.” Jon put his bass down and followed Spencer out the practice room door, casting a worried look over his shoulder at his bandmates.

The door clicked shut. Brendon kept his eyes on Ryan’s, taking a cautious step toward him. “You okay?”

Ryan released a shuddering breath, sinking to the floor and pulling his knees up to his chest. “Do I seem okay?” he whispered, his voice shaking.

Brendon exhaled and stepped a bit closer before dropping into a crouch next to the other boy. Ryan cringed, squeezing his eyes shut. “I’m sorry, I knew you weren’t -- I know you wouldn’t hurt me, I don’t know why…”

“I know. It’s okay.”

“No, it’s not. It’s not okay, it’s not, I-I… oh, god, I can’t do this. I can’t do this, you were right, I’m not ready, I can’t--”

“Ryan. Ry. Breathe. Just breathe.” Brendon grabbed Ryan’s hand between both of his own. “You’ve been doing really well these last few weeks. You’re just having an off day.”

“You don’t  _ know _ that.”

“I know you woke up this morning from a really awful dream that was worse than the ones you usually have.” Ryan flinched. “And I know, after spending the last couple of months with you, that sometimes after a really bad dream you feel really shitty for the rest of the day.”

Ryan exhaled, blinking to keep the tears welling up in his eyes from falling. He didn’t reply.

“I don’t think you’re not ready,” Brendon said gently. “I just think the dream threw you off and it’s making it harder for you to focus.” He raised his palm to Ryan’s back, moving it in small, soothing circles. “I  _ know _ you can do this.”

“How do you know that?” Ryan whispered.

“Because you’re the strongest person I know. And I’m gonna be right here to help you.” Brendon pressed his lips to Ryan’s temple, remembering his words from that morning.  _ You decided I was too messed up and left. _ “I’m not going anywhere. I’m right here.”

Ryan leaned against Brendon’s shoulder. “I know,” he murmured. He took a deep breath. “It was just a dream. You’re here. I’m here. The band is practicing. We’re gonna go on tour. And it’s gonna be great.”

Brendon smiled. “That’s right.” He squeezed Ryan’s hand, watching Ryan’s facial features smooth out, a look of determination replacing the anxiety and upset. “You ready to try again?”

“Yeah.” Ryan nodded. There was a small smile on his face when he looked up and met Brendon’s gaze. “Let’s do this.”


	18. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OH MY GOOOOD IT'S DOOONE IT'S FINALLY DONE CAN YA'LL BELIEVE IT AFTER OVER 9 MONTHS HA WOW
> 
> all right I'm gonna say the mushy whatever stuff at the end go ahead and read dis shit cuz I've been planning this ending literally since I decided on a title for this fic so WOOOOO IT'S DONE WE GOT AN ENDING BBYS

**TWO YEARS AND FOUR MONTHS AFTER**

Ryan was sitting at the counter when Brendon walked into the kitchen. He was hunched over a sheet of paper, the pen in his hand tapping against the laminate as he squinted down at the page. Brendon set his coffee cup down and sidled up next to his boyfriend.

“Whatcha got there?” He rested his chin on Ryan’s shoulder. He recognized the page as soon as he scanned it, but continued reading the familiar words anyway:

_ The Ballad of Mona Lisa _ _   
_ _ Let’s Kill Tonight _ _   
_ _ Hurricane _ _   
_ _ Memories _ _   
_ _ Trade Mistakes _ _   
_ _ Ready to Go (Get Me Out of My Mind) _ _   
_ _ The Calendar _ _   
_ _ Stall Me _ _   
_ _ Turn Off The Lights _ _   
_ _ I Wanna Be Free _ _   
_ __ Nearly Witches (Ever Since We Met)

“Why are you reading the tracklist again? We sent this in days ago.”

Ryan sighed. “I know, I know, I just…” He chewed on his lip. “I just don’t know if it feels right still.” He sat back, dropping the pen, and rubbed his hand over his face. “I still think putting Ready to Go and The Calendar back-to-back doesn’t feel right. I mean, I know none of the other songs felt like they fit  _ perfectly _ in between them either, I just… I dunno. I kind of still wish we had figured something out to put between them before the deadline.” Ryan looked up at Brendon in time to see his lips twitch. “What?”

Brendon’s nostrils flared briefly. “What? Nothing.”

“You did the face thing, where you notice something or think something’s funny but you don’t want to say it out loud--” Ryan frowned. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing!”

“I know I’m worrying a lot--”

“No, no, it’s not that. It’s nothing, really,” Brendon insisted. He turned away, barely hiding another twitch of his nose and lips. He swiped his coffee mug off the counter. “Do you want some coffee? Or, I dunno, lunch?”

Ryan just hummed under his breath, biting his thumbnail. “When do you think they’re gonna send us the masters?”

“Maybe… when they’re done?” Brendon replied, a slight teasing tone to his voice.

Ryan sighed again. “Uh-huh, okay.”

Brendon glanced over his shoulder, watching Ryan disappear into the living room. Only then did he allow a full smile to spread across his face, a nervous, excited flutter passing through his chest. He took a slow, deep breath, busying himself with pouring another cup of coffee.

“Bren!” Ryan called from the other room. “They just sent the email!”

Brendon paused, cup raised halfway to his lips. “Are the speakers hooked up?”

“Yeah, come in here!”

Brendon’s smile broadened. “Open the email, I’ll be right there.”

There was a pause, then-- “I think there’s… an extra track in here?”

Brendon bit his lip, barely suppressing a giggle. “What?”

“Butch wrote in the email, ‘Nice job guys, the last minute addition really ties it all together. Album sounds great to me, let me know what you think.” There was a pause, then a barely-audible clicking sound. “No, there is, something called ‘Always’, right in between… Ready to Go and Calendar…” Suspicion was creeping into Ryan’s tone. “Do you know what this is? Would you come in here already?”

“I’ll be there in a sec! Play the track, I’m listening.” Brendon bit his lip again to keep from laughing out loud. He slipped his hand into his pocket, feeling around for its contents for the ninth or tenth time since dressing that morning.

Ryan’s confused frown grew deeper, but he double-clicked the subject of his apprehension anyway. A half-second of fuzz filled the speakers in front of him as they picked up the signal through the audio cable connected to his laptop. A simple acoustic guitar melody poured out next. Ryan turned the volume on his laptop all the way up, the song now loud enough to fill the room around him just as Brendon’s voice came humming through the speakers:

_ “When the world gets too heavy put it on my back, I’ll be your levy _ _   
_ _ You are taking me apart like bad glue on a get well card. _ _   
_ _ It was always you, falling for me _ _   
_ _ Now there’s always time, calling for me _ _   
_ _ I’m the light blinking at the end of the road _ _   
_ __ Blink back to let me know…”

Ryan set his laptop down on the coffee table in front of him and leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees. Brendon had crept unnoticed into the doorway, carefully watching for Ryan’s reaction as he listened intently.

_ “I’m a fly that’s trapped in a web, but I’m thinking that my spider’s dead _ _   
_ _ Lonely, lonely little life, I could kid myself in thinking that I’m fine _ _   
_ _ It was always you, falling for me _ _   
_ _ Now there’s always time, calling for me _ _   
_ _ I’m the light blinking at the end of the road _ _   
_ _ Blink back to let me know… _ _   
_ _ That I’m skin and bone, just a king and rusty throne _ _   
_ __ Oh, the castle’s under siege, but the sign outside says ‘leave me alone’...”

Tears had welled up in Ryan’s eyes. Heart racing, Brendon curled his fingers around the small box in his pocket.

_ “It was always you, falling for me _ _   
_ _ Now there's always time, calling for me _ _   
_ _ I'm the light blinking at the end of the road _ _   
_ _ Blink back, to let me know…  _ _   
_ _ (It was always you) _ _   
_ _ Blink back, to let me know…  _ _   
_ __ (It was always you)”

Ryan slowly straightened as the song faded out, the speakers buzzing with static for a second before going silent. “Bren…?” he murmured, finding his voice. He turned toward the doorway, jumping when he realized Brendon had stepped into the room while the song was playing and now stood right next to him. “What--”

He fell silent, eyes stretching wide when Brendon dropped to one knee beside him, unfolding his clasped hands to reveal a ring box with a sleek, silver band inside. Ryan’s hand flew to his mouth, fresh tears pooling in his eyes. 

“Ryan.” Brendon’s voice was soft, gentle, slightly unsteady. He pulled in a quick, deep breath. “It was you, it was… for me… it was  _ always _ you. I… fuck--” He brushed away a couple of tears that had welled up in his own eyes, laughing a little under his breath. Ryan gave a short, spluttering laugh as well through his own tears, his heart pounding while his brain tried to fully wrap itself around what was happening.

“I love you so much. So much.” Brendon paused, inhaling another long breath. “So I was wondering if… if you would… marry me.”

“I-I… oh my god, y-yes, I… yes--” Ryan swallowed past the lump in his throat, nodding until he felt like a bobblehead. Brendon was laughing, crying a little, taking Ryan’s left hand and gently sliding the ring onto his fourth finger. He rose from his kneeling position and perched next to Ryan on the couch, kissing him full and long on the lips before wrapping his arms around him and pulling him close. Ryan was laughing and crying too, as he buried his head in the crook of Brendon’s neck.

“You’re ready for all of this?” Brendon whispered in his ear. “People… knowing? And everything?”

Ryan nodded against him. “Yes,” he murmured. He fumbled blindly for Brendon’s hand, intertwining their fingers. “I’m ready for anything with you.”

“Mm, cheesy.”

“You like it.”

“Absolutely.”

Ryan’s smile stretched wider. “So… does this mean I can get  _ you _ a ring?”

He felt Brendon smile. “Well, I hope so.” He was quiet for a second, then: “Do you like the song?”

Ryan pulled back far enough to look Brendon in the eyes. “Yes. Oh my god, yes, it’s… it’s  _ perfect _ , it’s…” He shook his head. “How did you…”

“Obviously, I had some help.” Brendon gave a sheepish smile. “But… everyone else seemed to agree it was a good idea, so… I went with it.”

“Wow.”

Brendon eyed him uncertainly. “I mean, was that… did I… did I do okay?”

“It was perfect,” Ryan repeated, squeezing his hand. He leaned against Brendon, resting his head on his boyfriend’s -- no,  _ fiancee’s _ \-- shoulder.

“I love you too,” he murmured. Brendon turned his head and pressed a soft kiss to Ryan’s temple.

“We’re gonna get married,” Ryan said, after a few moments of silence.

Brendon laughed. “That’s the idea, yes.”

“Wow.” Ryan grinned, looking at Brendon with wide eyes. “I mean… when? Where? Should we…”

Brendon wrapped his arm around Ryan’s torso, hugging him close. “Why don’t we start by…” He nodded toward the laptop, still open on the coffee table. “...listening to the album?”

Ryan blinked. He’d almost forgotten that they still had a whole album to listen to, a whole fresh set of eleven -- no, fuck, twelve now -- brand new songs, songs that would define them, tell their story, grace the lips of fans across the world and reach the ears of thousands, maybe even millions, of people, over the course of the next few years. Songs he felt good about, finally, after so much work and worry and self-doubt and stress. Songs that he was okay with. Songs that he, that all of them, were proud of.

“Yeah,” he said. “Yeah. Let’s start there.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> all right ALL RIGHT see I feel like at some point I told ya'll it'd be okay and DID I COME THRU WITH THE HAPPY ENDING OR WHAT YA'LL
> 
> okay okay okay. thank you all so, so, sooooo much for reading, especially the wonderful beautiful people who've been reading since the beginning or close to it, who've faithfully left comments and love and encouragement, you're all so amazing and the freaking greatest and I love and appreciate you all!!! and special shouts out to Pookie_Bear and Uriellyodd for commenting after just about every single chapter which was so so amazing and encouraging and awesome so thank you two for real!!!
> 
> that's it for me for right now. I may come back with another twisted, emotionally-loaded fic at some point but for now I... think I'm gonna try to write some original stuff?? maybe?? so yeah this is bye for now. thank you all again!!! <3


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